


Groundhog Quarantine

by Squeevening



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, I capitalized Angel everywhere if that's a dealbreaker don't read :-), M/M, The NON-CON is NOT sexual, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 28,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24008041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeevening/pseuds/Squeevening
Summary: Dean and Castiel are quarantined in the bunker and have fallen into an incredibly boring routine. One day Dean makes Castiel watch 'Groundhog Day', Castiel gets a no good very bad idea*, and Dean and Castiel begin a journey for two** that will change them both forever.*The non-con is Castiel's no good very bad idea and is not sexual in nature, although Dean does have one moment of fear when Castiel gets a little scary.**This is a Dean!Cas fic. Sam and Eileen are mostly offscreen, but I tagged them for accuracy.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 112
Kudos: 113





	1. Tuesday Morning

“ _ Fuck me,  _ what  _ day  _ is it even? _ ”  _ Dean sighed, glaring at the quarantine cross hatching on the wall.

There was a lot of it. He’d been really ambitious at first, huge strokes like the beginnings of an ill-planned “Happy Birthday” card, but he was starting to write smaller now, so he didn’t have to start a new wall. Dean scowled, brandishing the sharpie, which was starting to write gray.

“Tuesday,” Castiel answered, without looking up. His lips moved as his finger traced along the page of the book he was bent over, studiously poring over it at the kitchen table, and Dean finished crossing out the last group of four with a horizontal fifth line, capped the marker, and plopped down across from Castiel at the kitchen table to try a slice of the bread with the butter and jam Castiel had waiting for him.

The bread was dry, and it needed salt, and Dean washed the bite down with a sip of the coffee also waiting for him, which was thankfully still hot. Cas must have heard him showering and just brewed it then, unlike the other day when it had been lukewarm and he had accidentally griped about it. Castiel’s hurt look still haunted him.

“You said it was Tuesday yesterday,” Dean whined.

“It was,” Castiel nodded, “and it was the day before that, too. Lots of Tuesdays.”

Castiel looked up, finally, from his recipe, watching Dean add more butter and jam before taking another bite.

“What’s wrong with it this time?”

Dean chewed pensively, swallowed, and took another sip of coffee before answering, his brain slowly spinning up.

“Needs salt, and a bit less flour - or more water. Wait, what do you mean, this time? You haven’t made this bread before, have you? And... what do you mean, ‘ _ lots of Tuesdays? _ ’”

Castiel smiled, suddenly, the curve of his lips absolutely wicked.

“I’m  _ bored, _ Dean. You made me stay here with you, while you let Sam quarantine with Eileen. At least  _ they _ get to spend their time having lots and lots of intercourse, while I am sentenced to watching you destroy your kidneys and suffering through your taste in motion pictures, since somehow I never get a vote.”

  
Dean’s mouth fell open as Castiel continued, his tone matter of fact, and not even a little bit repentant.

You made me watch ‘Groundhog Day,’ and it occured to me, all these days feel exactly the same. Why not just literally experience the same one over and over and try to make it perfect, then we can jump ahead to real time. When it’s perfect.”

Dean could barely get the words out, the surprise too great for him to even work up the rage he was pretty sure he should probably be feeling.

“You _what -_ how many Tuesdays have there _been???_ Have you been _erasing my_ _memories?”_

Castiel shrugged, his eyes falling back down to his recipe, a pencil appearing in his fingertips. 

Dean’s eyes widened at the dozens of notes he hadn’t noticed on the page before, Castiel carefully crossing out ‘too salty’ and ‘too wet,’ and adjusting a couple recipe measurements on the page.

“It hardly feels like a trespass, since they are all basically the same memory. I’m letting you keep them now. What’s the difference?”

“Cas, you can’t just  _ erase my memories!  _ How many Tuesdays?”

“I stopped counting after the first several hundred, but they aren’t necessarily whole Tuesdays, so I don’t really know.”

“What’s  _ that  _ supposed to mean???”

“You get up. You drink coffee. You complain about my cooking. You glare at the clock until noon, then you say ‘It’s five o’clock somewhere!’ and you start drinking. Sometimes you make a meal, sometimes you beg until I make you something to eat, which you also complain about. Or that I’m watching you eat, or not keeping you company eating. You choose a movie. We watch the movie, by which I mean _I_ watch the movie, and you stare at me and complain that I don’t laugh at the right parts of whatever movie you picked. Sometimes I do it right, and you smile, and those are the only moments keeping me from going absolutely insane, Dean, and _I_ _watched life evolve on a beach._ ”

Dean’s mouth snapped shut from gaping, his face hot with shame.

“If I’m that awful, why -” 

Castiel cut him off, paying no attention to his attempted interjection.

“And  _ then _ you stare at me, if you aren’t too drunk, and your eyes inevitably fall to my mouth, and instead of saying whatever it is you’re thinking you mumble something about me having a good night, as if I will somehow enjoy my time here  _ without  _ your presence, and you stumble off to bed, to loudly masturbate yourself to sleep. Or, you pass out right here and I  _ carry _ you to bed, and I don’t even get those few minutes of vicarious pleasure that day.”

Dean had definitely found his rage, wrapped in shame and now embarrassment, sharp and painful, crawling over his skin with barbed feet.

“ _ Loudly?” _

“Yes. Thankfully. That has been the one bright spot for me in this torment; I like to imagine how I could make you make those sounds. Sometimes I imagine we’re the people in the videos I see on your laptop when I come into your room to rewind the day for us. If it’s not smashed - do you know how many times you’ve dropped your laptop off the bed? Thirty-eight times, Dean, twenty-four of which were fatal to the machine. But I don’t always have the patience to find out if you’ll be awake by the end of any particular Tuesday, so I’ve started rewinding them early.”

The flush on Dean’s face couldn’t be pinned on any one emotion, and he swallowed thickly, unable to speak, his original question still on his face, plus about a thousand more.

Castiel waved a hand dismissively.

“I’ve started rewinding them at your first unsolicited complaint about my behavior. To let you try again.”

“I thought you couldn’t even  _ do _ that anymore -”

“A mere twenty-four hour temporal shift for myself and one surly human has  _ clearly  _ not proven itself outside my ability, Dean.”

Rage was definitely pulling ahead, Dean’s arms crossing tightly across his chest as he tried to collect his thoughts, unsure now if he was free to speak or he was going to trigger an instant replay.

Castiel slammed the cookbook shut with an air of finality, and looked up to meet Dean’s eyes.

“Relax, you can keep these memories. I’ll give you back the others if you insist, but to be honest I felt I was doing you a favor.”

“ _ Cas. _ ” Dean spoke very carefully now, every syllable carefully enunciated. “This is a  _ huge  _ breach of trust.  _ Swear to me, _ on all that is Holy, you will never take my memories again  _ without my permission. _ ”

Castiel rolled his eyes, rising to his feet to replace the cookbook on its shelf before stepping across the kitchen and into Dean’s space, Dean flinching but not far enough to avoid two fingers meeting his forehead.

“I swear.  _ Here,  _ see what you weren’t missing.”

Castiel calmly cut himself a slice of bread, buttered it, spread jam on it, and walked away muttering about molecules, while Dean fell to his knees on the kitchen tile, hundreds of memories flooding his mind, layer upon layer of monotony stacking like foils on an old-school overhead projector.

_ Bread and butter on hundreds of slices of bread, slowly improving over time, his complaints superimposing one over the other, over and over, “Too wet,” “Too dry,” “Too much yeast,” “Dunno, needs sugar maybe?” “This coffee is cold.”  _

Had he ever not complained? Had he ever said “Thank you?” 

The memories stacked until recalling them felt hazy and yellow but he couldn’t find a breakfast “Thank you,” anywhere, and his cheeks flushed in shame as the rest of the memories shuffled down into his mind like decks of cards, hundreds of cards for each set of activities.

_ Every day that same joke, he’d die before he ever said it again, that same look of exasperated long-suffering on Cas’s face every time, cautious optimism as he got up to get Dean a beer, or watched Dean get a beer, hoping for - Ah sometimes there was a ‘Thank you’ now, but not always, sometime Dean had wanted to get it himself and he resented being waited on, or sometimes - Oh god, he’d wanted Cas to get it and grumped when he’d had to get it himself, Jesus, how could Cas tell -  _

_ Hours and hours and hours of drinking the same six or eight or twelve beers, sometimes seeking Cas out to grump at him - those memories ending abruptly with two fingers reaching for his forehead - endless cooking or wheedling for Cas to cook him something, Castiel always letting himself be persuaded, never once refusing, every time that soft smile, every time a valiant attempt, slowly improving meals, that Dean watched himself scarf down without appreciating, watched himself burp and sigh and claim he’d do the dishes tomorrow, insist on a movie - *fuck* he never let Cas pick, not once, staring at Cas just like Cas said, waiting for him to laugh, sometimes saying the dialogue out loud, dozens of times *rewinding* to make sure Cas caught the jokes -  _

Dean groaned in horror, watching Cas go through this hundreds of times, yet never snapping at him or losing his temper, just trying valiantly to laugh at the right parts, his joy at getting it right tiny sparks of happiness in long stretches of what Dean could clearly see now was  _ torture. _

_ Stumbling to his bedroom to reach for a magazine or his laptop and his bottle of carefully rationed lube, augmenting that with spit and leaning back into his pillows to wrap a slick hand around his cock and take care of business, his utter horror now, knowing Cas was listening, making each breath, each groan, seem so much louder than - *Fuck* he’s an Angel, he doesn’t even need me to be loud - but he *was* loud, sloppy drunk and carelessly loud every time, grunting and fucking up into his hand and moaning really loudly into the dead silence and Oh Jesus what was he *thinking* - _

Dean buried his face in his hands on the kitchen floor, mortified, as the memories finished coming at about the same time as memory Dean, passing out within seconds of wiping off every time,  _ Fuck me, if I knew I were putting on a show I would have taken longer. Done something fancier, maybe. _

The thought was insidious, curling around Dean with the shame and the mortification, twisting into a new kind of heat as he dared to look directly at the things Castiel had just said to him.

“ _ At least they get to spend their time having lots and lots of intercourse. _ ”

“ _ Thankfully… I like to imagine how I could make you make those sounds… I imagine we’re the people in the videos... _ ” 

Dean winced, trying not to think about what kind of porn he’d resort to after this many days in quarantine, while knowing full well  _ exactly _ what he’d pick by now. 

_ Guilty pleasures. Cas didn’t seem to mind, he sounded like - like it *turned him on*.  _

Dean’s skin prickled with possibilities. 

_ These are *fake* days, right? Like a video game that keeps restarting the level when you die. *Cas’s* video game, that keeps playing until I beat the level. _

_ What is Cas’s perfect day??? _

  
  


***

  
  


Dean found Castiel in the library, his nose buried in a book, his feet propped up insouciantly on the long table. 

Dean drained the last of the liquid courage from the bottle in his hand, waiting for Castiel to look up, which he did only after placing a bookmark carefully in the book and closing it, slowly lifting his eyes to Dean’s face.

“Yes, Dean?”

Dean’s face was flushed, still or again, Castiel couldn’t tell.

“Cas, I’ve been  _ awful  _ to you - “

“That’s alright, Dean. I’ve come to expect your surliness; it holds a certain charm for me. And of course you are bored as well, I understand - “

“It’s  _ not  _ okay, Cas. It’s not okay what you did to me -”

Castiel looked dismayed for the first time, but Dean held up a hand.

“But it’s not okay how I treat you, either, so I figure we’re even on that count. But here’s the thing, Cas, I can’t  _ fix _ it if you don’t  _ say  _ anything. But now that you’ve finally said something, I, uh, - Can we do one more Tuesday? Start over in the morning?”

Castiel was astonished, staring up at Dean’s face.

“You  _ want  _ to do another?”

“Yes, please - but don’t erase my memory - I, uh, I want to try something.”

Dean set his empty beer bottle nervously down on the table next to Castiel, those crinkles around his eyes going for the record, even though his lips weren’t smiling. 

Castiel shrugged, two fingers reaching for Dean’s forehead, doubly astonished, his breath hissing out in surprise, when Dean leaned forward this time to meet them.


	2. Tuesday Morning  (Rewind)

Dean’s fingers trembled slightly, gripping the sharpie, and he carefully scratched the cross hatch across the group of four and replaced the cap before crossing to the table to stand beside Castiel, who hadn’t looked up from his recipe yet.

“Fuck me.”

“Tuesday,” Castiel answered mildly, without looking up.

Dean didn’t move, his tension a living thing, crackling in the air, and after a couple long seconds Castiel looked up, his eyes widening as he actually looked at Dean for the first time.

“Did you  _ shave?  _ Why do you smell different - are you wearing  _ cologne?” _

Dean just stared back, shrinking into himself a little with nerves as Castiel’s brain backtracked and reparsed Dean’s last sentence, his eyes widening in shock, and something else. 

_ Interest. _

Suddenly Castiel was on his feet, looming over Dean, the heels of his dress shoes making him physically almost as tall as Dean in his robe and bare feet, but somehow he  _ felt  _ like he filled the kitchen.

“ _ What did you just say to me? _ ”

Castiel’s voice was bigger, too, more resonant somehow, every syllable laced with menace, and Dean swallowed thickly, his voice almost trembling as he whispered his answer.

“ _ Fuck... me? _ ” 

Castiel’s incisors flashed in the warm kitchen lights, his smile absolutely wicked, but there was no mirth in it. 

Dean didn’t dare move, frozen in place, all the hair on the back of his neck rising as Castiel leaned forward to whisper into his ear, the hot breath of a predator, closing in for the kill.

“I have vaporized men without a second thought - lain waste to  _ my own brethren - _ for speaking to me with  _ far _ less audacity than I allow from you.  _ Every. Day _ . But  _ this. This  _ is a whole new level, Dean.”

Castiel’s lips grazed Dean’s ear, and he inhaled deeply along Dean’s neck, Dean’s hindbrain clanging every alarm his ancestors had ever heard of and several brand new ones, his heart hammering in his throat.

“Fortunately for  _ you _ , I didn’t  _ feel _ the things for them that I feel for you.”

Castiel openly sighed his satisfaction as he stood up straight again, not even looking at Dean’s eyes, studying his mouth instead.

“Your cologne does nothing for me, but the scent of your  _ fear _ , now  _ that  _ is delicious.”

Dean’s escaping breath contained a tiny whimper, and Castiel’s head tilted, watching Dean’s lips part as he sucked in another, ragged and shuddering, and suddenly Dean was spinning in a one-eighty, his arm twisted up behind his body, Castiel’s body a furnace against his back as he whispered into Dean’s ear.

“On the  _ one _ hand, I am an Angel of the Lord, and you  _ profane _ me with your  _ sacrilegious _ request. On the  _ other  _ hand, it  _ is _ written that ‘man cannot live on bread alone,’ and  _ good god above _ do I tire of feeding you bread I cannot seem to bake to your satisfaction no matter  _ how _ many times I adjust the  _ accursed _ recipe.”

Castiel’s fingers were reaching around Dean’s body, untying the belt of Dean’s robe, and Dean couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips, his body betraying him as Castiel angelhandled him, with wave after wave of  _ heat. _

Dean could  _ hear  _ Castiel’s lip curling in a satisfied snarl.

“ _ Yes. _ I think I  _ will _ answer your  _ blasphemous  _ prayer, Dean. I will taste the pleasures of the flesh -  _ your  _ flesh, but first, I think, you’ll  _ beg _ me for it.”

_ “What?”  _

Dean was shocked at the way his voice came out, high and querulous, and ashamed at the snort of derision he could feel from Castiel on the back of his neck before Castiel entirely released him, stepping away to watch his untied robe fall open, Dean yelping and closing it, too little too late to hide his current state from Castiel’s calmly observant stare.

“I like the smell of your fear. Now, I want to smell your arousal.  _ Beg me for it.” _

Dean yelped as the lights in the kitchen actually flickered on Castiel’s last command, no idea how to proceed, his stomach twisting with nerves, and he dared to lift his eyes to Castiel’s face, his face begging for help.

“ _ Please, Cas,”  _ he whispered.

Castiel’s face softened just the tiniest bit, the set of his mouth still merciless, but his eyes slightly more gentle as he nodded at Dean impatiently.

“Take the bottle of lubricant out of the pocket of your robe and set it on the table.”

Castiel’s instruction was clinical, impatient, and Dean tried to ignore the flush rising to color even the tips of his ears as he obeyed, the embarrassment heavy and painful.

“Take off your robe, so I can see you.”

Dean obeyed wordlessly, the flush rising up his chest as well as he slipped out of his robe, his cock betraying him, high and proud, his eyes on the floor now as he tried not to fidget.

Dean didn’t expect Castiel’s soft sigh, nor his quiet whisper of, “ _ Beautiful,”  _ and he stood a little taller, his flush partly pleasure, now, as Castiel stepped forward to touch, caressing one gentle finger down Dean’s chest, over a nipple, watching him shudder, then traipsing over his stomach, tracing a finger down the soft line of his obliques, tickling into his pubic hair, still damp from his shower, and gliding up the underside of his cock, twitching and jumping at the attention, Dean’s breath hissing out in surprise.

Castiel’s hand roughly closing around his cock was a shock, his other hand reaching for the back of his head had Dean’s knees threatening to give out, with want or fear or both, neither of them could be certain.

“ _ Beg me to fuck you _ ,” Castiel whispered, his teeth closing on Dean’s earlobe.

Dean gasped, Castiel’s hand twisting and pulling his cock - even dry - while his hot breath whispered across his ear  _ really _ arousing and * _ really*  _ distracting.

“ _ Please, Cas,”  _ Dean tried, but Castiel released his cock to reach behind him and twist his arm again up behind his back again, the heat of his body incendiary, even through his clothes, the rough scratch of his coat against Dean’s body incongruous and hot as hell.

“Try harder,” Castiel hissed, and Dean shuddered, losing his footing as Castiel roughly yanked his head back by his hair to graze sharp teeth along the column of his neck, effortlessly supporting Dean’s entire body weight with just the one hand twisting his arm behind his back.

“ _ Please fuck me, Cas,”  _ Dean whispered, the words thick and unwieldy on his tongue. “ _ Anything you want.” _

_ "You cannot fathom what I want,"  _ Castiel snarled, " _ And you would not offer yourself so lightly if you understood what you were asking of me." _

Castiel's voice softened as Dean flinched, his breath hot against Dean's neck.

“And what do  _ you  _ want?” 

Dean was speechless, his heart pounding in his throat, arching against the heat of Castiel's mouth. Castiel was still supporting Dean’s entire body weight with one hand, his tongue joining his teeth as he licked his way up Dean’s neck, huffing out a pleased sigh.

“You smell different. Are you aroused?”

Dean snorted, instantly regretting it as Castiel twisted his arm a little harder and actually bit his neck, his teeth sharp and painful even as Dean arched into the pain, moaning.

“Ah -  _ Ah -  _ I  _ mean yes, very _ ... _ Sir?” _

Castiel’s sharp intake of breath told Dean everything he needed to know, and he leaned into the success, arching his neck into Castiel’s teeth.

“I want  _ whatever you want, Sir,”  _ Dean tried, his breath rasping out over his teeth, ignoring the plastic buttons of Castiel’s coat jabbing him in the stomach.  _ “I want to give myself to you, *Sir*, however you want to take me. _ ” 

__

“You taste good, for a foolish human who knows  _ nothing  _ of what he speaks,” Castiel growled, pulling his face away from sucking on Dean’s neck to stare at his mouth. “Like fire sounds.”

“Taste my mouth,” Dean whispered, his voice husky. “If you want.  _ Sir.” _

Castiel stared at Dean’s lips, and Dean swallowed nervously, his tongue darting out to moisten them, before Castiel dropped Dean’s arm to grab both sides of his face, Dean scrambling to find his footing as Castiel pulled Dean’s head down and roughly pushed their mouths together.

The kiss was clumsy and sloppy, but Dean had never been more aroused in his life, his heart hammering in his ears as Castiel explored his mouth at will, licking his teeth, sucking and nipping at his lips, and finally pushing his tongue as far as he could reach into Dean’s mouth, until Dean couldn’t breathe at all but he didn’t care, melting in Castiel’s arms, whimpering deep in his throat around Castiel’s tongue, hyperventilating, his breath hitching, when Castiel finally pulled away to look at him, his eyes wide and black.

“I want…  _ more,”  _ Castiel growled, and Dean nodded urgently, panting, eyes wide, Castiel’s erection jabbing him in the hip  _ kind _ of a dead giveaway.

“ _ Anything - “ _

Castiel’s snarl of frustration, staring at his mouth, gave Dean pause, and he asked the question carefully, his tone as neutral as he could get it.

“Is there anything you saw in the videos you want to try _ , Sir?” _

Castiel’s eyes slowly lifted from Dean’s mouth to meet his eyes, his forehead furrowed in frustration, the lights flickering again with his irritation.

“I have no wish to bind your limbs, nor to strike you, nor to cause you pain beyond what I have already done. I  _ want _ to possess you in the way of my kind, but given your  _ obstreperous disposition _ that would be  _ reckless _ and  _ dangerous _ and to be perfectly frank, you would probably explode. So, I will  _ settle _ for claiming you in the way of men. I  _ want  _ to make you feel pleasure. I  _ want _ to taste the pleasure from your breath and from the fragrance of your skin. I  _ want _ to feel your neurons firing with my fingertips - and maybe with my tongue - I  _ want _ you to make those noises for  _ me _ , Dean, but I don’t want to command it, I want you to be  _ helpless to stop them. _ ”

Dean’s mouth was hanging open, his breath ragged and shallow, and he snapped his jaw shut, swallowing thickly, his voice so husky he could barely get the words out.

“I, um, want that too, Cas. A lot.”

Dean hesitated, watching Castiel’s face, Castiel’s frustration clearly tipping closer to anger.

One of the light bulbs on the ceiling abruptly shattered, a shower of glass spraying down over the kitchen floor, and Dean flinched and went for broke.

“I can show you some stuff,  _ Sir -” _

Castiel snarled, and Dean found himself bent over the cold, hard kitchen table, Castiel somehow the heaviest weight he’d ever been crushed under, hot breath in his ear.

“I wish to _possess_ _you,_ Dean. Not to be _trained_ as a _concubine_ -”

“ _ Cas, please.”  _

Castiel’s weight was suddenly claustrophobic and terrifying, Dean’s voice no louder than a whisper as he begged. 

“ _ It doesn’t have to count, we can come right back here, to this morning, just a - a practice run, so you know what you want.” _

Dean shut his eyes, his terror rising sharply as he heard Castiel reach out for the bottle of lube, but Castiel’s weight eased, that familiar fluttering noise, and now they were in his bedroom, in the same position as before, but over his bed. 

Castiel released Dean to his own recognizance and sat heavily in the chair beside Dean’s desk, the wooden legs scraping across the floor as he turned it to face Dean, who didn’t dare move a muscle.

“You only smell like fear now.”

Castiel’s tone was flat, accusing, and Dean dared to turn his head to meet Castiel’s stare, his irritation suddenly stronger than the fear. This was still  _ his Cas.  _ Somewhere in there.

“If you want me turned on, don’t scare the shit out of me, dipshit.”

Castiel’s wolf grin it up the room, his eyes practically glowing as he flipped the bottle of lubricant over and over in nimble fingers.

“Don’t offer me what you aren’t truly prepared to give.”

Dean pulled himself cross-legged onto his bed, his nudity suddenly  _ very  _ uncomfortable. He pulled his sheet over his lap, not sure if it was more or less embarrassing that he no longer had a boner.

“Cas, I - “ Dean couldn’t meet Castiel’s eyes. He sniffed an armpit experimentally and found his nose wrinkling in distaste at his own rancid flop sweat. “I  _ am  _ prepared to give you whatever you want, I just - you scared me, okay?”

Dean could barely get the words out, his eyes firmly fixed on his own thumbnails, one idly scraping at the cuticle of the other. 

“I haven’t done that in forever, okay? You were so pissed, I just - I thought you were going to be, uh...” 

Dean’s eyes hesitantly lifted to meet Castiel’s steady gaze, twin oceans of blue, carefully watching him. 

“Rough.”

Castiel’s eyes danced as he slowly rose to his feet, stripping off his jacket and tossing it on the chair as he advanced, Dean unconsciously backpedaling up the bed away from him until he was trapped at the headboard, Castiel looming over him in his suit and tie, a hand caressing his face, cupping his jaw, gentle lips meeting his.

The kiss was soft, sensual, and Dean moaned, surprised, as Castiel explored him, gentle presses of lips and tongue this time, Castiel capturing Dean’s tongue to gently suck on it, expanding his conquering to the corner of Dean’s mouth, his cheek, kissing softly across his freshly shaven jaw, coming to land with soft lips and gentle suction on the column of Dean’s neck, just under his ear, until Dean was writhing and arching beneath him, his rekindled arousal shoving against soft sheets and the firm answer of Castiel’s thigh, before Castiel murmured in Dean’s ear, soft and low.

“ _ I *will* be rough with you, Dean. I will claim you, but not until you're ready. Not until you beg me for it. You have my word. _ ”

Dean found himself gasping and arching against cold air, Castiel somehow back in his chair, his feet propped up on the edge of Dean’s bed as he tossed the bottle of lubricant to land, suggestively, against Dean’s thigh.

“Show me what you do to make those noises.”


	3. Tuesday  (Show Me)

Dean’s hands shook as he uncapped the lube and squirted some into his palm. His own breath sounded incredibly loud to him in the dead silence, his heart hammering so loudly he knew Castiel could hear it, even with human ears it must sound like the subwoofer of a teenager’s car driving past -

“Do you need your laptop?”

Castiel was rapt, watching him, his head tilting to one side like it did when he was confused, or irritated, or, apparently, intrigued, and Dean huffed out a breath as his hand wrapped around his cock, shaking his head no.

“I’m good.” 

Dean tried not to groan yet, sliding his hand slowly down his cock, but Castiel’s attention was intoxicating, heavy and intense, and Dean could barely breathe, arching into his hand -

“One of your magazines, then?”

Dean couldn’t help himself from watching Castiel’s mouth, the way his lips and tongue formed each syllable, remaining parted after the last sound, his tongue soft and pink, the set of his mouth hardening into impatience -  _ Oh. _

The meaning of the words sank in and Dean shook his head again slowly, his lips parting as he stared at Castiel’s mouth, his hand slowly rising and falling.

“You watching me is -  _ Ah -  _ enough -  _ AH -” _

Castiel was suddenly keenly interested, and Dean’s skin rippled with chills as the weight of his attention increased exponentially, Dean’s eyes widening with surprise at how much  _ hotter  _ this was, a moan escaping his lips as Castiel surged to his feet to approach the bed, seating himself on the edge of it, close enough to touch if he wanted to.

“My observation arouses you?”

There was something menacing about Castiel’s bearing that seemed to accompany his increased interest, and Dean nodded, gasping.

“Yes,  _ Sir. _ ”

Dean couldn’t help his noises, his breath escaping in desperate little whimpers as Castiel watched him without lifting a finger to help, and Castiel smiled, suddenly, his wolf grin both smugly pleased and somehow also incredibly alarming.

“Then  _ these _ noises... are already for me.”

Dean nodded helplessly, his eyes glazed, glued to Castiel’s mouth, his back arching as he whimpered and moaned, trying not to blow it too fast but Castiel’s attention made it impossible to last, his tension rising fast and sudden, and he yelped in surprise as Castiel’s hand closed around his just as he climaxed, Castiel’s eyes dark with interest as he watched Dean spill his pleasure over both their hands.

Dean was still breathing heavily and twitching in the aftershocks of his pleasure when Castiel’s other hand touched his shoulder, a spark of grace that felt like a static shock arcing between them and now he was gasping and panting again, his arousal completely unsatisfied even though he was still reaching for a tissue to wipe up, Castiel’s touch abruptly leaving his body as Castiel lifted his hand to his mouth to taste Dean from his knuckles.

“Again.”

Dean’s mouth fell open in affront, even as his skin prickled with heat, watching Castiel's tongue dart out to lick his hand.

“Did you  _ heal my sex drive?” _

_“_ No. Not per se. I healed your body to the state it was in this morning, which I assume was sexually unsatisfied. At least your kidneys needed no assistance at this time.”

Castiel’s eyes were still dark, his breath shuddering slightly as he lowered his hand to his knee, and Dean stared at him, his mind boggling itself into circles.

“So, you've been healing me every night? Is that why I’ve drunk hundreds of cases of beer in a row without gaining an ounce?”

“It’s complicated. They are technically the same beverages each time you drink them, so the physics of moving you in time compared to the calories of beer that you are consuming - look, even I don’t entirely understand it, but you remain a perfect specimen of humanity, why look a gift horse in the mouth?”

Dean finished wiping his hand off on the tissue, not even trying to control the flush rising in his cheeks. He lifted his eyes shyly, to meet Castiel’s earnest gaze, still perched on the edge of his bed.

“You like how I look?” 

Castiel nodded. His attention slipped from Dean’s eyes to his lips, followed the column of his neck to linger over his shoulders, caressing his arms and chest and stomach and dipping south to linger, heavy and pleasant, Dean’s body rippling with chills as Castiel openly admired his erection, reached out to trace the muscle of his calf with delicate fingertips, following the line of his tibula all the way to his ankle before pulling his hand away, leaning back and meeting Dean’s eyes again.

“Yes. I could look at you all day, Dean, and  _ today _ , I think I will.  _ Again.” _

Dean gulped, reaching for the lube, but Castiel shook his head.

“Why did you watch my mouth while you touched yourself? Show me that.”


	4. Still Tuesday  (Show me More)

Dean couldn’t believe his ears, his pulse racing and his mouth falling open as he stared at Castiel’s expectant expression.

“Cas, I - uh, I can’t -”

“What do you mean  _ can’t? _ ”

Castiel’s voice was veering dangerously towards anger, Dean’s bedside lamp flickering  _ just  _ a little, and Dean held out a placating hand, his voice rising helplessly as he struggled to explain himself.

“I can’t, uh,  _ reach _ on myself... I can show you on you, though, I mean, if you’ll, uh,” Dean’s cheeks instantly flushed, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he struggled to meet Castiel’s eyes.

“If you’ll let me.  _ Sir. _ ”

Castiel didn’t look convinced, but he did look less imminently menacing.

“I have no interest in letting you touch me. I want to watch  _ you  _ feel pleasure -”

Castiel abruptly fell silent at Dean’s soft whimper of disappointment, his head tilting pensively. He watched Dean squirm for a while, studying him, before he spoke again.

“Would it give you pleasure to touch me?”

Dean nodded vigorously, not trusting himself to speak, and Castiel shrugged, waving a hand.

“Alright, I’ll allow it. What do you need?”

Dean’s eyes dropped from Castiel’s face in instinctual deference, his entire body humming and crackling with anticipation. He didn’t dare ask Castiel to get undressed, or to lie down…

_ How do I -  _

“ _ Stand up, please, Sir, _ ” Dean whispered, not even daring to watch as Castiel lithely unfolded himself from the bed to stand beside it, waiting.

Dean almost fell out of bed scrambling to get on his knees, coming to rest, vibrating, on the carpet at Castiel’s feet. His hands trembled as he held them out almost in supplication, not daring to touch, hesitantly lifting his eyes to ask for permission, and a jolt of electricity thrilled through him, starting high in his chest and landing low in his gut, at Castiel's reaction.

Castiel's eyes were jet black, his expression absolutely wild, his breath huffing out over lips that looked chapped but had felt soft as silk touching his cheek, and Dean gasped as Castiel silently nodded his permission, widening his stance a little -

_ *Fuck me* he’s so hot - _

Dean’s hands shook as he reached for Castiel’s belt, pulling the leather up through his shiny buckle to get enough slack to release the prong from the hole, to pull the strap and the tip through the buckle, unhooking the hook from the bar on Castiel’s dress slacks, Castiel’s attention heavy on his hands as he unzipped and hesitantly reached through the fly of Castiel’s black silk boxers -  _ Of *course* he wears silk -  _ to free his cock, Dean’s eyes widening and his breath huffing out in surprise at the weight and heft of the erection practically burning his hand, Castiel’s smug grin superseded almost immediately by his impatience, almost glaring at Dean to get on with it.

Dean gulped, his eyelids fluttering the only nervousness he allowed himself the luxury of expressing as he leaned forward, licking his lips, to wrap them around the head of Castiel’s cock, his hand closing around his shaft hesitantly, almost reverently, but Castiel’s breath huffed out in pleased surprise, and Dean met his eyes by accident, his heart hammering impossibly loud in his own ears.

Time slowed for a moment, Dean’s entire body a vibrating lightning rod of desperate heat, kneeling at Castiel’s feet, Castiel’s eyes wide and black staring at his lips, wrapped around his cock, and then Castiel groaned, deep in his throat, the sound sheer astonishment, one hand reaching out to caress the side of Dean’s face, before Castiel’s hand reached for the back of Dean’s head, his fingers twisting into Dean’s hair, and the spell shattered into a million pieces.

Dean would have hyperventilated if he could breathe, instead his chest rapidly rose and fell, his breath hitching deep in his throat, as the _need_ crashed over him, Castiel pushing deep into his throat desperately, overwhelmingly erotic, Castiel’s guttural groans incendiary, both hands now gripping the sides of Dean’s head like a vice to piston his hips against Dean’s face, Dean’s hand slipping into Castiel’s boxers to do this _right,_ cradling his balls and stroking up behind them, Castiel’s hand gripping the back of his head to fuck his face harder insanely arousing, even as his body fought for air he could not get, the sharp planes of Castiel’s stomach rippling with effort inches from his face _killing_ Dean - _He is So._ _Hot. How is that fair he’s never exercised a day in his *life* -_ Castiel’s astonished cries as his pleasure mounted spiraling Dean’s tension higher and higher, his free hand twitching but _no way_ he dared to reach for his cock without permission, panic rising as his body screamed for air but he desperately fought it as Castiel gasped above him, Castiel crying out as he fucked as far into Dean’s face as he could, roaring above him and pulsing deep inside his throat, Dean helpless to stop himself from coming too, twitching almost painfully into cold air, weeping half with relief and half with panic, swallowing and swallowing around Castiel’s cock as the dizziness hit and his vision blurred through the tears, before the edges of his vision really went black, pressing inwards in a circle - 

Dean came to in Castiel’s arms, cradled against the warmth of his chest. Castiel wasn’t wearing a shirt, and Dean couldn’t remember ever seeing him without one. Without being covered in bees, or blood, anyway. It felt scandalous, and dangerous, and he surreptitiously sucked in a deep breath, tasting thunderstorms and rain, but mostly Castiel’s cock from his own lips, heady and strong, and he moaned as his cock swelled against the bare flesh of Castiel’s thigh, Castiel’s trousers apparently MIA as well.

“Are you...  _ naked? _ ”

Castiel smiled into Dean’s hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before answering.

“Yes. I’m  _ so  _ sorry, Dean; I was distracted and I forgot you need to breathe. Why didn’t you  _ say _ anything?”

Dean snorted against Castiel’s chest and Castiel allowed it this time; Dean could hear his lips parting in a smile. He looked up to meet Castiel’s eyes, grinning even wider when Castiel rolled his eyes at him.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Dean shrugged, pressing his cheek reverently back down against Castiel’s chest, in case this was his only chance. Castiel’s heartbeat was slow and steady under his cheek, and Dean’s body twitched a little, his arousal impossible to hide now, pressing insistently against Castiel’s thigh

“I wanted to make you feel good.”

“Well, you certainly succeeded. That was… unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. I don’t have the frame of reference or the necessary language to express how good you made me feel.  _ Very  _ good. Thank you.”

Dean dared to press a kiss to the crease between Castiel’s pecs and Castiel’s hand found the back of Dean’s head to stroke soft fingernails through his hair, but not before Dean moaned at the touch, hiding his face in embarrassment when Castiel looked down at him, surprised.

“I didn’t heal you yet, since you seemed upset that I healed you after your last orgasm and I could not obtain your permission until you woke up. Are you able to... Does this mean you would like another?

Dean lifted his face from Castiel’s chest to stare at him incredulously, his eyes dancing.

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, I am not kidding you. What do you mean?”

Dean tried and failed to hide his surprise, his lips curving into a smug grin.

“I may be old but I’m not dead, Cas. I can still get it on more than  _ once. _ ”

“You aren’t remotely old, Dean. I have pin feathers older than you. How many times can you orgasm without resting or being healed?”

Dean’s face was shy now, surreptitiously studying the tops of Castiel’s shoulders.

“Dunno. It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone but my own hand, but back in the day -”

Dean trailed off at the naked jealousy clouding Castiel’s face, glancing at his shoulders again instead.

“Would you let me - Could I see? Your feathers?”

“No.”

Castiel’s face softened, watching Dean steel his expression to hide the flash of hurt disappointment that had crossed it. He reached out to caress Dean’s cheek, his face falling as Dean flinched a little but pretended he hadn’t.

“Maybe someday, Dean,” Castiel murmured, his prevarication face almost perfect. “It’s not safe for you if I’m not in complete control of myself, and I am  _ definitely  _ not in complete control with your body this close to mine.”

Dean couldn’t help but glance down, his feelings slightly mollified that at least Cas wasn’t lying about one thing; he was definitely not in complete control of himself, his cock high and  _ impressively  _ proud. Dean’s body barreled right past his hurt that Cas was hiding something with a rush of heat, his breath speeding up, an embarrassing moan slipping free as Castiel roughly flipped him onto his back, to lick a long stripe up his chest, his eyes darkening as he tasted the salt from Dean’s body, his lips and tongue working south, pausing just below Dean’s navel to look up at him, one finger tickling up and down his inner thigh, throwing  _ visible  _ sparks, bright little dots like a fuzzy blanket in the dark, as Dean moaned and twitched and  _ hoped _ , his entire body vibrating with desperate arousal.

“I won’t count the first one,” Castiel growled, Dean’s brain taking a second to catch up, distracted by Castiel’s deliciously warm hands sliding up his thighs to cup his ass, and then Castiel’s lips were kissing the head of his cock, hot lips and tongue swallowing him down, his back arching off the bed and a low keening cry rising from his throat as Castiel sank down onto his cock in one long, slow,  _ exquisite _ slide of soft, wet heat, slow, luxurious strokes deep in his throat, Dean convinced time must have stopped, alarm bells clanging before some part of the fireworks going off in his head and body remembered  _ Castiel doesn’t need to breathe  _ and he surrendered, his body melting into a puddle in Castiel’s arms except for exactly one part of him, Castiel’s approval palpable, a living thing, wrapping Dean in soft comfort and delicious pleasure, Castiel’s hands on the move now, sparks flying from his fingertips as he ran soft fingers up and down Dean’s body, the cartographer and his new world, lifting the fog of war, and claiming every freckle as his own.


	5. Tuesday (Go Slow)

Dean groaned in relief as Castiel finally admitted defeat, collapsing on his back beside Dean, an enormous grin on his face, his lips glowing much pinker than usual.

“How many was that?”

Castiel sounded breathlessly pleased with himself, but more than that, he sounded like _himself_ , like _Dean's_ Cas, and Dean laughed for sheer joy, his eyes crinkling up, Castiel helpless to stop himself leaning up on one elbow to trace the gorgeousness of Dean’s laugh lines with reverent fingers.

“I thought _you_ were counting!” Dean finally managed to choke out.

Castiel’s answering smile was so bright everything else suddenly seemed like it always had been and now always would be sepia toned by comparison, and Dean forgot he had been laughing to stare up at him in awe.

“I was manipulating time to extend your orgasms, and I lost track of the number of them.”

“I couldn’t help but notice that, and I have to say I appreciate it. Thanks, Cas.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Castiel actually sounded a little shy, and a little strained, and Dean remembered, suddenly, that he’d only come once, some eternity ago. His glance flashed guiltily to Castiel’s cock, and his guilt increased exponentially at Castiel’s state, high and dry, metaphorically speaking, but actually more high and leaking and alarmingly purple.

“Cas, do you need, uh, can I do anything for you? Doesn't that… hurt?”

Castiel stared at Dean, his head tilting quizzically.

“I have been feeling pain for a while, yes, but I ignored it to give you pleasure. Is that not a normal part of intercourse?”

Dean couldn’t feel guiltier, his face agonized. All that time he’d selfishly let Cas give him orgasm after orgasm… well, _let_ was a strong word. Dean swallowed thickly, his voice suddenly shy now, too.

“Noooo, Cas, you were kinda calling the shots, or I would have... offered to take care of you sooner. When you’re calling the shots you, uh, kinda get to take what you want, when you want it. I mean, y’know, within the established boundaries of the rel - the, uh,” Dean faltered, no easy noun presenting itself. “The scene,” he tried, his nose wrinkling slightly, but he’d lost Castiel at “take what you want,” Castiel’s eyes huge and dark with interest.

Castiel’s voice was wistful, his eyes fixed on Dean’s mouth.

“I _want_ to possess you. But you were afraid, and I have no wish to hurt you. I _never_ want to hurt you, nor to teach you to truly fear me -”

“You said it’s not safe -”

“I am perfectly capable of possessing you in the way of men.” 

Castiel arched an eyebrow at Dean’s hissed intake of breath, and the way he was shrinking away from his side.

“ _And_ of being gentle. Are you or are you not ceding control of ‘the shots’ to me?”

“Well _yeah_ , but -”

“I will not pressure you, but I want nothing else. I am content to taste your pleasure.”

Castiel ran a finger down Dean’s rib cage, trailing sparks, smirking at the difference in the way Dean’s hissed intake of breath sounded now. 

“I will heal you, then, and you will keep count this time.”

Castiel was already trailing soft kisses down Dean’s stomach before Dean had time to react, his little noise of protest lifting Castiel’s glance to check on him.

“What is it, Dean?”

“I - I - want _you_ to get to come!”

Castiel shrugged, his hands sliding up Dean’s thighs now, a wave of raw sexual desire, almost painfully acute, trailing in their wake, and Dean gasped, his back arching off the bed as Castiel’s hands reached his hips, Dean’s lips still sputtering protests as Castiel answered him gravely.

“Spasms in the flesh of my vessel hold little interest for me in and of themselves, Dean.”

Castiel shook his head, his lip quirking up gently at Dean’s crestfallen expression.

“Do not misunderstand me, I enjoyed what we did beyond all possible description, but _your surrender_ was the part that aroused me. 

_“When you knelt for me -"_

Castiel's eyes were suddenly wide and black, his body lithely flowing up the length of Dean's body so he could lace his fingers through Dean's hair, leaning down to growl in Dean's ear over the sound of Dean’s helpless moan, every hair on Dean's body rippling upright to join his cock, already so hard it hurt.

" _I think you felt it. I think you liked it as much as I did."_

Castiel twisted his hand in Dean's hair, and Dean whimpered as Castiel's lips met his flesh, the hot breath of the predator raising all the hairs on Dean’s body, Castiel’s teeth barely grazing the vein in Dean’s neck, but his lips and tongue observing no such restraint, sucking and licking bruises to Dean’s skin as Dean writhed and moaned, his fists clenching knots into his sheets, his back desperately arching towards Castiel to no avail with truly unfair levels of sheer _need_.

After several eons Castiel lifted his mouth away from Dean's neck to admire his handiwork in the soft bedroom light, trailing the tip of his index finger over the bruises to erase his marks in slow, meandering caresses, while Dean gasped and moaned and collapsed on his back, nearly sobbing in desperation.

“What’s the matter, Dean?”

Castiel’s voice was gentler than his hands, roughly caressing waves of desire up and down Dean’s torso, and Dean groaned in desperation, running his hands through his hair, slick with sweat.

“You _really_ don’t want to come?”

“On the contrary, I would _very much_ like to climax again. Inside you.”

Castiel’s gentle smile was belied by the way his upper lip lifted just enough to reveal a flash of incisors. He tore his gaze away from Dean’s mouth to meet his eyes, seas of black staring into polished jade.

Dean opened his mouth but his voice was so husky it made no sound, and he cleared his throat to try again.

“ _Okay._ ”

“ _What did you say?_ ”

Castiel was incredulous, staring at Dean’s face, and Dean licked his lips nervously, nodded.

“You said you could be gentle. I _need_ to make you come again, _Sir_.”

The effect of the honorific on Castiel was viscerally satisfying, despite the fear rolling off Dean in viscous waves. Castiel’s breath hissed out in a groan, his arousal palpable as he fought to retain control of himself, reaching for the lubricant on Dean’s side table with enough adrenaline coursing through his body to make his hands tremble. Castiel read the label, squirted a little dollop out onto his fingertips to feel it and taste it, grimacing, and set the bottle back down without taking more, Dean’s eyes wide as Baby’s hubcaps when Castiel turned back to face him again.

“Are you _certain?_ You don’t smell certain.”

“Go slow, okay?”

Dean’s voice was still husky, but it shook a little, and Castiel shook his head firmly.

“No. Not until you beg me - “

“ _Please_ go slow. _”_

Castiel huffed out an exasperated sigh and the tension broke, Dean grinning up at him and waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Dean snorted and Castiel rolled his eyes at him, Dean beaming in pleased success when Castiel finally cracked a smile. The moment stretched between them, delicate and electric.

“I want you, Cas,” Dean finally promised, his face torn. “I’m just - you have to go slow or it’ll hurt - not good hurt, like a _lot -_ and it’s _embarrassing_ \- look, I haven’t done the stuff you’re supposed to do first. I have condoms though, hang on -” 

Dean tried to reach for his nightstand but Castiel’s hands caught his wrists, pinning them over his head to lean down and lick his neck, Dean gasping and arching into him without meaning to, embarrassed as Castiel lifted his face from Dean’s neck to grin at him, smugly satisfied.

“You smell good now. What ‘stuff you’re supposed to do first’?”

Dean couldn’t look more embarrassed, for really real now.

“The - uh - the cleaning. You _know_ about human anatomy, right?”

Castiel snorted, releasing one of Dean’s wrists to trail a finger down the extremely appealing lines of his stomach, following the arrow of his obliques south, tickling lower, his fingertip trailing a slick trail of lubricant as he leaned down to nip at Dean’s lips, his fingers questing. Dean yelped in surprise as Castiel’s fingers got really personal, warm and slick and teasing his entrance, and he forgot to kiss back, his mouth hanging slack, Castiel licking at his lips until Dean moaned a question.

“How - _Ah - where did you get the lube - AH -”_

Dean’s eyes flared in surprise, Castiel’s fingertip gently breaching him _way_ slicker than should be possible, completely bare, and _delicious -_

“ _Cas! A condom!_ ” 

Castiel leaned back to stare down at Dean’s face, his eyes pools of black as he pushed his finger forward, Dean’s breath rasping and shuddering as Castiel bottomed out at his knuckles and held it there, watching him.

“I think I’d prefer you call me _Sir_ when I’m penetrating you, Dean.”

Dean gasped, Castiel’s words landing in his gut and pulsing there as heat, everything betraying him by twitching, and Castiel’s lip lifted in a snarl of success as he slooowly pulled his finger back far enough to add a second one, sliding both in to his knuckles, lubricant dripping down his hand and onto the sheets as Dean tried to breathe but found himself groaning instead, his lips struggling to form words.

“ _Y-yes, Sir._ ”

“ _Better._ ” 

Castiel’s fingers were twisting in slow motion, slowly separating at the outset of his thrusts and coming back together as he bottomed out at his knuckles, fucking Dean in languorous slow motion, and Dean found himself panting and gasping and trying to speak, only garbled half-syllables making it to the tip of his tongue.

“To answer your _ques_ tion, Dean,” Castiel observed wryly, his voice deep and sonorous and giving a little extra emphasis each time his knuckles landed, “Your lubricant is com _posed_ of two types of polymeric organosilicon _com_ pounds _,_ both commonly referred to as _sil_ icone _,_ made from _sil_ ica _,_ one of the most common _sub_ stances _-_ on _earth -_ all _around us_ , and, now, _tech_ nically, in _side_ you _._ ”

Castiel pulled his hand all the way out of Dean to hold it up in front of Dean's face, Dean moaning at the loss and then shying away in horror, only to realize in shock - and relief - that Castiel’s hand was clean and completely dry.

“Coaxing a few million molecules to do my bidding is far easier than, for example, getting you to decide what you want to eat for dinner. And to answer your _other_ question, the one you are clearly too embarrassed to vocalize; I am a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, Dean. I can kill you with a touch. I can heal your body from injury. I can bend _time._ I think it’s safe to assume I can prepare your ‘human anatomy’ to receive me. 

“So _no,_ I won’t be needing a barrier between us when I fuck you.”

Dean couldn’t breathe, his chest rapidly heaving as he hyperventilated, staring up at the sheer menace on Castiel’s face, his body rippling with chills everywhere Castiel’s eyes happened to land. 

_How is he so *hot* -_

The way Castiel’s lip curled up as he leaned back to admire Dean’s body pulled a whimper from Dean’s lips, and the lightning sparking in the depths of his eyes made Dean’s entire body crackle with anticipation as Castiel knelt between his thighs, vaguely uncertain and irritated about it.

“Arrange yourself to receive me,” Castiel commanded, and Dean fell over himself to oblige, rolling onto his stomach and arching his back, Castiel’s little sigh of appreciation encouraging, but Castiel made no advance, and Dean looked over his shoulder, nervously moistening his lips, to find Castiel’s forehead furrowed in consternation.

“Make no mistake, you are beautiful at every angle, Dean, but this is not what I anticipated. Will you not give yourself to me so that I may observe your face, and kiss your mouth, and touch your body as I wish?”

Dean rolled back over, his heart kind of fluttering in his chest.

“You want your hands free?”

“If possible, yes. I anticipated feeling your neurons firing, and giving your body pleasure with my hands while I possessed you -”

Dean cleared his throat nervously, his stomach fluttering now, too.

“I could... sit in your lap, _Sir?_ ”

Castiel was clearly picturing it, Dean's entire body somehow fluttering now, as Castiel nodded, turning to reach for the chair.

"On the bed," Dean clarified hesitantly. On the edge of it, here, or further up by the headboard -"

But Castiel was already seating himself on the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor, and Dean gulped as Castiel looked at him expectantly, Dean's glance helplessly traveling to what Castiel expected him to sit on.

_Fuck, that's gonna hurt._

There was nothing for it, and Dean crawled across the bed as gracefully as he could to get on his knees beside Castiel, flushing absolutely furiously as he gingerly lifted a knee over Cas to straddle him, coming to rest with the searing heat of Cas's dick nestling against his taint. Dean's stomach twisted with nerves again, his balance a little tenuous with his knees sinking into the mattress tilting him into Castiel's chest, but he wasn't sure where he was allowed to put his hands, and he met Castiel's eyes hesitantly to check.

Castiel looked like he was in shock, basically, his eyes as wide as Dean had ever seen them, his face frozen halfway between disbelief and awe, and Dean's nerves did a little shimmy and suddenly they were waves of heat, fierce and hot.

"Just say when, _Sir,_ " Dean whispered, and Castiel unfroze, staring up at Dean's face with naked desire, not even trying to hide it, his hands lifting from the bed beside him to slide reverently up Dean's thighs, across Dean's ass, and up his back, one hand gripping Dean's shoulder, the other the back of his head, to pull him down into a kiss, his kiss so passionate Dean melted into a puddle in his arms, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s neck without even noticing he was doing it, sinking into him, the burning heat of Castiel's stomach deliciously thrilling against Dean’s cock. 

Dean barely noticed Castiel’s hand leaving the back of his head to trail down his back, too preoccupied sucking on Castiel’s tongue, nor Castiel adjusting something between them, his hand on Dean’s shoulder pulling gently down, but then Dean sure as shit noticed _that,_ whimpering into Castiel’s mouth as Castiel pulled him down onto his cock, _too fast_ , his cock felt huge it was going to rip him apart he just knew it and Dean couldn't help tensing in terror but Castiel paused, soft fingers petting him, soothing him, the stretch was burning but it didn't hurt, exactly, Dean's nerve endings clanging confused alarms until Castiel broke the kiss to whisper into Dean’s ear, his breath igniting a trail of gooseflesh that started at Dean’s ear and rippled in waves down his spine.

" _Will you honor me with your faith, as well as the gift of your body? Your body is not in pain, Dean._ "

Castiel waited, only his hand in motion, sliding up Dean’s back and reaching over his shoulder to cradle Dean’s face, and Dean shuddered, lifting his panicked gaze to meet Castiel’s eyes, gentler than Dean expected, gray thunderclouds over silver seas.

Dean nodded, blowing out a huge breath. He shut his eyes and forced himself to relax, his forehead dropping its tension first, then his shoulders, then his back, the slow wave of deliberate calm traveling steadily down his body as Dean consciously forced himself past the fear, to nervously examine what his body was actually feeling, instead of what he was expecting to feel. 

Castiel’s hands were sliding down his back to hold his ass cheeks, and Dean admitted they felt really good, huge and searing hot, and now they were kind of kneading his ass, and that felt really good too, and the elephant in the room, so to speak, didn’t _hurt,_ per se, it just felt really big, and that wasn’t a bad thing by itself, and Dean further admitted to himself that Castiel’s heat stretching him so wide felt _really_ good, actually, and that the tingles of electricity he could feel sparking in his body didn’t even feel like Angel stuff, those felt like they were _his,_ and Castiel’s hands sliding up his ass to wrap around his waist felt amazing, made him feel like he _belonged_ to Cas, not that he would admit how good that felt or how much he wanted it but now Cas was slowly, inexorably pulling him down over his cock, the stretch _absolutely delicious_ . _So. Big._ But he wanted _all_ of it, his eyelids fluttering open just in time to see Castiel’s lips and tongue close around his nipple, the sound that escaped him surprising them both but Castiel didn’t lose a beat, still steadily pulling him down, teeth joining his tongue in worrying Dean’s flesh, and then Castiel’s cock hit home.

The sound that tore out of Dean’s throat raised every hair on Castiel’s vessel, and he paused, utterly delighted, letting the feeling wash over him, before lifting his eyes to admire Dean’s face, his pools of black meeting astonished rings of green, Dean’s pupils enormous, his whimper as Castiel lifted his mouth to demand Dean’s lips exactly the kind of thing Dean would have found mortifying moments ago but Dean entirely forgot to be embarrassed, incoherently begging to be kissed, his moans even more desperate when Castiel obliged, a keening cry starting low in his throat, and rising, as Castiel’s hands tightened around Dean’s waist and Castiel started to _move._

  
  


_***_

  
  


“Wait for me this time.”

Dean had no idea how many times he’d been lifted and pulled down again on Castiel’s cock, time didn’t seem to be moving right and he’d lost count of how many orgasms Castiel had wrung from his body, a sheen of sweat covering him everywhere but where Castiel’s hand was gripping him, one thumb in his armpit and Castiel’s fingers gripping his shoulder blade giving Castiel all the purchase he needed to move Dean at whatever pace he wanted, his other hand currently splayed over Dean’s chest, feeling his heartbeat.

Dean nodded his obedience, his hair dripping sweat into his eyes, and he reached to wipe it away and only succeeded in spreading it around. He could feel his orgasm hovering, no less urgent than any of the others - Cas _must_ be cheating, or Dean really, _really_ liked being fucked but his mind shied away from admitting such a thing - and he concentrated on Castiel’s face, Castiel's eyes still jet black, sparks flickering in their depths, and Dean found himself begging, not meaning to, it just slipped out.

“Will you - can you please - I want to be _under_ you when you come, _Sir._ ”

Castiel’s head tilted, his face completely serious as he lifted Dean all the way off his cock, separating their bodies for the first time since they’d started fucking an eternity ago, staring at him as Dean instantly teared up from the loss, his begging ratcheting up a notch.

“ _I’m sorry!_ Whatever you want, _Sir, *please* don’t stop -”_

“Stop talking.”

Dean stopped instantly, his body going limp in Castiel’s arms as the dismay took hold.

“Relax, Dean, I am _pleased_ with you. _Yes_ , you may yield to me more completely. _”_

_Oh._

Dean sucked in a huge, relieved breath, his entire body still screaming for Castiel to keep fucking him, and then Castiel was lifting him, laying him down, smoothing a gentle hand over his forehead and all the sweat was gone but none of the heat, Castiel’s knee landing between his thighs, and he lifted his legs for Castiel to fit their bodies together, Castiel pressing his cock against Dean’s entrance but not fucking him yet despite Dean’s whimpering, rocking a little as he leaned down to grip Dean’s wrists and pin them on either side of his body, Castiel’s face almost feral, his breath visibly quickening, and Dean suddenly knew he’d chosen exactly right, lifting his chin to offer Castiel his throat, shuddering as Castiel gasped, astonished.

Time stuttered to a stop as Castiel lost his grip on it, Dean frozen, waiting at Castiel’s pleasure, Castiel staring down at him in awe. He distinctly remembered watched _life_ evolve, fascinated by creatures made of flesh and blood, beasts that needed to devour one another to survive. He’d watched god create sentient beings out of the same building blocks, mortal men, consciousness living inside flesh and blood, the instincts of the creatures that came before them imprinted in the DNA helices that coiled in their cells, and he stared, dumbfounded, at this one, the one that fascinated him above all others, the one he would willingly die for, again and again, instinctually offering him what he could not give in the way Castiel wanted but he _could_ give in the way of a creature that could die. The vein in his throat. The one that yielded instant death if torn. The language of submission, in battle, and in - in _mating._

Castiel threw his head back and _roared_ into the spaces between time, where Dean could not hear him or be made afraid, and then Castiel’s pocket timeline for two spun back up and Castiel _took what was offered_ , claiming Dean with one vigorous thrust, the full weight of his earthly body behind his claim as he landed, Dean’s exhilarated gasp only fueling Castiel’s inferno, his lips and teeth meeting Dean’s throat with enough force to taste copper, Dean’s whimper and the way he arched into it stealing Castiel’s reason, nothing in the Universe of any import but this one human writhing and moaning underneath him, Castiel’s skin glowing just a little as he let the pleasure take him, his hips pistoning out of control as he shifted his weight to reach for his human - _not mine - almost mine -_ to grip his cock in one hand, slickened with the molecules that made Dean’s nervous system crackle and pop, to slide in time with his body so they could feel the pleasures of the flesh together, Castiel’s visceral, transcendent satisfaction in the way Dean gave himself so willingly - his body heaving and arching into Castiel’s every demand, his pleasure spilling at Castiel’s crackling touch - the mirror image of what he could not know Dean was feeling, Dean’s entire awareness consumed with giving himself to the Angel above him, whatever he wanted, feeling the heat of Castiel’s pleasure spilling _inside his body_ simultaneously the most intimate and hottest sensation he’d ever felt in his life, his eyes rolling back in his head as he felt Castiel’s demand he follow and he obeyed instantly, the pleasure of obeying nearly rivaling the pleasure Castiel was coaxing from his body right now, so overwhelming that everything was kind of going white around the edges -

  
  


***

  
  


Dean came back to his body in stages. First he felt warm, and safe, and he enjoyed that for a long while, safety not something he remembered feeling so viscerally since he was a child in his mother's arms, but these were definitely not his mother's arms, and he did not feel like a child.

Next, Dean's mind idly explored his body, because he felt - well, he felt _used -_ but in all the best ways, everything screaming that he'd had really spectacular, maybe athletic sex, definitely the one giving it up, which he hadn't done in a lifetime, his mind shying away from opening up those memories with practiced ease. He hadn’t missed it since then, that was for sure, but he felt… _good_ . _Sated,_ and that felt nice, although he felt a little confused as to why, after all this time he’d have gone there.

He hadn’t even been tempted to let anyone fuck him in years, certainly not since he'd met Cas, anyway, his mind too exhausted to fight him on examining that too closely like it usually did, turning the idea over and over and feeling that same melancholy wistfulness he always pretended away, wishing things could be different. That his life had been less impossible swings of fate, maybe, and more normal coincidence like regular people got to live, maybe, and that Cas could have been human, maybe, and into guys, _definitely_ , and then his mind sparked a couple more synapses and the absolutely gorgeous, vivid dream he’d just had came flooding back to him, but if that was a dream, was he still asleep? Whose arms were around him _right now?_

Dean’s eyes flew open in terror that he'd imagined it all, and Castiel was holding him like a baby, gently stroking his hair, those absolutely gorgeous blue eyes twinkling down at him along with that rare, beautiful smile.

"Hello, Dean."

"Cas! I thought I dreamed you!"

Castiel beamed, his fingers still petting even though Dean was awake now.

"Perhaps you did. I think I overwhelmed your nervous system. Do you feel alright? Do you need sustenance?"

Dean's mind obediently checked in with his stomach, long ignored, and his stomach took the opportunity to rail at him about hours and hours of emptiness, no food no water only a few swallows of -

Dean stopped listening, smirking up at Cas.

"I'm _starving_ . And I need like a _gallon_ of water, and a whole bottle of advil -"

"Well, _that_ , at least, I can take care of," Castiel murmured, two fingers to Dean's forehead and suddenly he wasn't sore anywhere, the loss of that fucked-out feeling kind of distressing, actually, but there was nothing to be done about it now so Dean managed a smile.

"Thanks, Cas."

"Of course, Dean. Get dressed, I'll make you dinner."

Castiel abruptly disappeared and Dean obeyed, a little dizzy, dressing himself with Castiel already gone and no trace of what they'd shared anywhere on his physical body kind of depressing, not even a hickey where Cas had gone kind of wild on his neck. Dean sighed, his fingers tracing the spot where he should by all rights have a bruise, teeth marks, _anything_. His body rippled with a shudder of heat at the sense memory, and an inexplicable sense of longing that he banished as silly, and he stepped into the hall and headed for the kitchen, wondering, suddenly, what tomorrow might hold, and whether it would be a Tuesday or a Wednesday.


	6. Tuesday Morning  (Second Fiddle)

Dean scrawled the Tuesday hashmark as fast as his hand could move, recapping the sharpie and shoving it back on the shelf as an afterthought, so he could rush to the kitchen table, where Castiel had bread waiting, warm and fragrant.

“Yes, Dean?”

Dean was suddenly shy, the words tripping from his tongue with difficulty.

“Will you, um... fuck me?”

Castiel glanced up from his recipe, his head tilting in confusion.

“Why would I do that?”

Dean’s stomach twisted in pain, sharp and sudden, and he reeled backwards in shock, fighting to keep his composure.

“I thought - after yesterday - I mean the last today - “ Dean’s face fell, studying Castiel’s blank expression, and he got the words out only with great difficulty, his voice a ragged whisper. “Was that just a - a one-time thing?”

“I had hoped not,” Castiel answered evenly, “But once you fuck yourself, I have no interest in playing second fiddle to your hand.”

Castiel’s eyes returned to his recipe, a pencil appearing in his hand, and Dean gaped, his skin crawling with mortified embarrassment, painful and hot.

_ Fuck. Guess I wasn’t as quiet as I thought. _

Castiel waved a hand for Dean to sit.

Dean sat.

“Try the bread, Dean.”

Dean cut a slice, his stomach warning him not to, but he resolutely buttered it, added jam, and bit off a chunk. It was still dry, but it had the perfect amount of salt, and Dean swallowed thickly, instantly regretting it as his stomach threatened to revolt. He set the rest of the piece down, staring blankly at the butter melting into it, his mind churning with regret, his body with sorrow and pointless arousal. He had only jacked off to take the edge off, and it hadn’t even worked, his entire body desperately keening for Castiel's touch since the moment he woke up, his only solace now the bittersweet memory of all the things they’d done yesterday. The last today.  _ Whatever. _

“How is it?”

Dean blinked, focusing on Castiel with difficulty.

“It’s good.”

Castiel’s voice was a whip crack, coldly furious.

“If you  _ lie  _ to me, Dean, I will never touch you again.”

Dean flinched, staring at his plate, and his shoulders slumped as his arms crossed to hug his body, his lips clamping firmly shut.

Castiel stared at him for what felt like an eternity, his fingers drumming on the table. When he spoke again, his voice was gentler.

“I apologize, Dean. I didn’t tell you what I wanted, but I punished you for not doing it. That’s not fair; I should have given you explicit instructions. I waited all night to be with you again today, and I was excited to - well, nevermind that now. I suppose I was hurt you didn’t wait for me, and I lashed out.”

Dean’s eyes were soft as summer moss, his face an agony of apology when he met Castiel’s eyes again.

“I’m sorry, Cas, I do that  _ every _ morning, that’s just part of waking up. I didn’t know you were waiting for me. All I could think about was what we did yesterday - Tuesday -  _ you  _ know, and I needed to take the edge off so I could  _ breathe _ ... I just wanted to last more than six seconds for you today, y’know?”

“You were thinking about me?”

The lingering anger on Castiel’s face was abruptly gone, his expression soft, almost shy, and Dean nodded slowly, his voice a husky whisper.

“ _ Yes, _ Cas.  _ You were So. Hot. _ ”

Watching the pleasure coloring Castiel’s cheeks made Dean feel everything at once, but mostly, if he were going to be honest with himself, incredibly horny. He kept his eyes fixed on Castiel’s eyes by sheer force of will, fighting the growing urge to study his mouth, but Castiel was following no such constraints, his eyes darkening as his lip lifted in a half-snarl, his breath rasping, now, through his teeth.

“Please forgive me, Dean, I am ashamed. I will endeavor not to expect you to read my mind.”

“I forgive you, Cas. I’m sorry I lied. The salt is just right, but this bread is dry as fuck.”

Castiel was beside Dean in the blink of an eye - Dean didn’t even hear the sound of his wings - grinning like a wolf as he reached for Dean and Dean surged to his feet and into Castiel’s waiting embrace, Castiel’s lips and tongue roughly taking possession of Dean’s mouth, Dean’s whimpered noise of surprise, as Castiel lifted him effortlessly in his arms, melting into other, more desperate noises as Dean’s legs wrapped around Castiel’s waist and his robe fell open and Castiel unbuckled his belt and trousers with one hand to grip Dean by the waist and smoothly take possession of him there, too, Dean not even noticing they had traveled to his bedroom until Castiel’s full weight landed on him, his back on soft sheets and pillows, and Castiel  _ enthusiastically _ claimed him in the way of men.

  
  
  



	7. Tuesday (Intrusive Thoughts)

Dean didn’t even check his hatchmark wall this time, meticulously showered - except he’d skipped his morning constitutional, since Cas had been so disappointed yesterday - but neither shaved nor cologned, breathlessly racing to the kitchen. His stomach dropped to discover that Castiel wasn’t there, but he was mollified to find coffee, and fresh bread, and a note.

“ _ Please eat. I am meditating. I will join you when I am done.” _

Dean ate, marvelling that Castiel had managed to figure out coffee from the first time he’d shown him what he wanted, but bread still eluded him, this loaf so moist it had the unpleasant texture of raw dough in the center of the slices.

When Castiel made no appearance Dean went ahead and made himself eggs and bacon too, ate those, dragged his feet cleaning up, and finally wandered into the library just in case. 

The library was deserted, too, and he didn’t want to actually disturb Cas, so he wandered back to his bedroom, popping a Metallica cassette into his stereo and pulling on headphones to lay on his back, his mind taking exactly zero seconds to drift to yesterday.

He should be sore. He should be sore in every muscle of his body, and especially in one place, his dick jumping and twitching just thinking about it, but Castiel had healed him and there was no evidence anywhere but his mind.

_ Castiel pinning his wrists over his head, sweat dripping from his forehead as he slooowly pushed their bodies together, pulled them apart, his undulating thrusts gentle, endless, the heat pooling in Dean’s body deceptively gentle too, except every now and then Castiel would give him a taste, just one violent thrust, his eyes absolutely wild, his breath huffing out onto Dean’s ear or neck or mouth as he leaned down to lick or suck or kiss, and Dean would cry out in desperation as his entire body responded with a flash fire of heat. Then Castiel would lift his head away, grinning like a wolf, to watch Dean pant and moan and babble, his rhythm resuming that slow, maddening grind, Dean’s heat flare slowly subsiding, banked, each time simmering just a little hotter than it had been before. _

Dean groaned, pressing a hand down on his cock, hard, to keep his boner from aching. He truly had no idea how long Castiel had fucked him yesterday. Definitely more than an hour. Maybe way longer, who could tell with the way time moved in here? Cas must have managed to find a way to spot heal him just for the pain every time he got too sore, without wiping out his current state of arousal  _ \- Thank god. Well maybe not god, but thank *someone* -  _ because he remembered feeling pain, but then the pain would fade and it would just feel good, and every time he’d start to feel sore again he must have winced or something because Cas would lean down to kiss him and he wouldn’t be sore anymore, just endlessly horny and desperate for Cas to fuck him harder -

Dean glanced at his alarm clock but barely an hour had passed since he’d gotten up to shower, and Castiel often disappeared for hours during the middle of the day, reappearing only to see if Dean wanted him to cook dinner or not, and to sit with Dean for the inevitable movie.

  
Dean winced, flipping through his yellowed rolodex of restored memories, at all the times he saw himself wandering around looking for Cas, finding him quietly sitting somewhere, and basically picking a fight. 

_ Jesus, Cas must have really wanted to murder me. How did he even put up with me? _

Dean’s memory kicked out a sentence Castiel had whispered along his neck, while  _ sniffing him like prey _ .

“ _ Fortunately for you, I didn’t *feel* the things for them that I feel for you. _ ”

The heat coiled in his gut, shivered along his skin, ached in the places he was swollen, and Dean wrapped a hand around his cock to squeeze, trying to ease the pain. The heat and pressure of his hand helped, but he pictured Castiel watching him, sitting beside him to watch his hand rise and fall, like it was doing now despite trying not to, but it didn’t count without lube, right, he’d stop in a second, okay just a couple more seconds -

_ Castiel’s hand, closing around his to feel him come. _

Dean held his breath, his heart hammering a hundred miles an hour as he pulsed his pleasure over his fist.

_ Castiel’s hand, lifting to his mouth to taste him. _

Dean couldn’t help it, lifting his thumb to his lips to see what Castiel had tasted. Not bad, but  _ nothing _ like Castiel’s flavor on his tongue, his entire body rippling with chills remembering Castiel leaning forward to fuck his face, and -

Dean huffed out a frustrated breath and reached for the lube.

_ Just until I take the edge off. _

  
  


***

  
  


The clock accused that it was now pushing three hours since Dean had woken up, and he discarded his latest round of tissues with a heavy sigh, physically less tense but emotionally about a million times tenser. He felt like he’d traded one for the other, like pushing in the old-school radio buttons in one of Bobby’s old jalopies.

Dean guiltily padded down to the bathroom to shower again, shaving this time and trimming his eyebrows while he was at it. 

_ When did those decide to just... keep growing? _

By the time he was dressed and poking around in the kitchen for something to eat it was technically lunch time anyway, so he elected to toast a couple of slices of Castiel’s bread to make a PB&J, plopping down at the table to sink his teeth into his sandwich just as Castiel strolled into the kitchen.

Castiel sat down at the end of the table kitty corner to Dean, his face wistful, while Dean gulped the bite down, his mouth suddenly incredibly dry.

“I miss PB&J,” Castiel sighed. 

Dean held out the sandwich, but Castiel shook his head mournfully, smiling a little to take the sting out of it.

“Those molecules won’t do my bidding.”

Dean flushed slightly, setting the sandwich down to gulp at his bottle of beer so he could maybe form words. He’d wanted milk, but they hadn’t had milk in months _. _

“Did your meditation go well?”

Castiel nodded slowly, his face suddenly completely impassive.

“It would have gone better without the intrusive thoughts. Did yours?”

Dean’s flush was a slow-moving thing of beauty, coloring his cheeks and making its way even to the tips of his ears while he stared at Castiel, his gaze dropping to his sandwich as Castiel handily won the contest.

“Yeah. Uh, sorry, I was… tense.”

“I thought I made myself clear yesterday.”

Castiel’s voice was hard, and Dean looked up in surprise, dismay flitting across his face.

“I was thinking about you -”

“Yes, I know. The intrusive thoughts were yours.”

Dean’s flush from before had been a drunken karaoke serenade compared to the aria concerto his face put on now.

_ “How -” _

“Your yearning called out to me like a prayer. I cannot say I am not flattered, but I  _ can  _ say I  _ thought _ I told you to wait for me.”

Dean’s tongue tripped over itself on its way to point out that technically, the note just said “ _ I will join you when I’m done, _ ” and that Cas had been okay with it yesterday, once he knew Dean was thinking about him…

_ I was hurt you didn’t wait for me. _

Dean’s eyes fell to studying the table, his hands suddenly industriously busy with his napkin and an invisible spot of peanut butter marring its gleaming surface.

“I’m sorry, Cas. I was weak.”

“So I am beginning to gather.” 

Castiel’s fingertips drummed on the table, while Dean waited apprehensively for his verdict.

“How was the bread?”

“Um, the flavor is good, but the middle is soggy.”

Castiel’s only response was the staccato beat of his fingers continuing to drum on the tabletop, Dean on tenterhooks until Castiel finally spoke. 

Castiel’s voice was cold, and Dean did not dare to meet his eyes.

“This is untenable, Dean. I cannot continue down this road with you in half measures. I cannot bear to pretend to claim you if you are insincere in your surrender.  _ It hurts too much. _ ”

Castiel’s voice cracked, and Dean felt a visceral stab of anguish in his chest, his eyes flicking up for a split second before falling again, stinging now, from seeing the pain on Castiel’s face before Castiel had managed to hide it.

Castiel was silent for a long moment, collecting himself, before he continued, his voice flat.

“If you will not be mine, whatever this is between us ends right now. You either give yourself to me or you do not, and we return to how we were before. I can remove the last forty-eight hours of memories from your mind or not, I will let you decide if I will carry them alone, but we will  _ never  _ speak of them again -”

“No!  _ Please! _ ” Dean’s eyes were swimming as he met Castiel’s stony stare, his body unconsciously leaning towards Castiel’s stiff, distant posture in entreaty. “I want to  _ be _ with you, Cas, I’ll do whatever you want, I’m sorry, okay? I tried to tell myself you wouldn't mind, but I  _ knew _ I was lying. Can’t you give me another chance, or - or punish me?  _ Anything _ ,  _ Please.” _

Castiel nodded curtly, considering, while Dean’s nerves clawed at the inside of his stomach.

Castiel reached a decision, abruptly rising to his feet. 

“We have only just begun to discover one another in this regard, Dean, and I am loathe to waste a day’s erudition on punishing you. Nevertheless, I am angry, and anger sours my mood. Accordingly, you may still surrender your will to me today, but you will not feel my touch, nor will you be allowed to touch me.

“Wait,  _ what? _ ”

Dean’s dismay was palpable, fresh tears springing to the corners of his eyes, but he steadfastly did not flinch when Castiel reached out his hand expectantly, extending his hand obediently across the table so Castiel could hover two fingers over Dean’s hand, pointedly  _ without _ touching him.

Dean shuddered as Castiel unraveled his entire morning’s work, all his tension back and then some, _ plus  _ whatever you called the way his stomach was twisting and jumping with nerves, and he practically sobbed as he sucked in a rattling breath, Castiel already striding rapidly away, turning impatiently towards him when he didn’t move.

“Come. You will masturbate for me today, until I tire of watching you.”

“ _ But - _ ”

“ _ Or, _ you may refuse. You may always refuse a request, Dean, without fear of penalty; I am not without mercy. If my request is too much for you, then I will leave you to entertain yourself today - I  _ trust  _ without interrupting my meditation again - and you may attempt to please me again tomorrow.”

Dean paled, the idea of putting on a private show while Cas presumably kept erasing his satisfaction - without getting to touch Cas  _ at all -  _ patently horrifying, but the idea of spending the whole day without him  _ infinitely  _ worse, and he silently nodded his obedience and stumbled forward to follow Castiel to his bedroom, his heart pounding in his throat.


	8. Tuesday (The Wee Hours)

Dean whimpered, his eyelids twitching rapidly back and forth in his sleep.

_ Castiel was watching him jack off, his attention insanely arousing, extra titillating - naughty danger thrills tickling up and down Dean’s spine - because they were parking, reclined on the hood of his Baby, the distant lights of the city twinkling under clear, starry skies, chilly, his skin prickling with gooseflesh as Castiel leaned down to kiss him, slipping one hand inside his jacket and overshirt to close sharp fingernails on his nipple through his tee shirt, muffling his cries with urgent kisses as Dean’s tension spiraled up and up, bright and hot but FUCK headlights were coming up the road and Dean had to zip up in desperation as they scrambled to get inside the car, laughing and breathless, but the scene outside the car was shifting, and now they weren’t in a car at all. _

_ They were in some sleazy motel, he and Cas under the covers in the tiny bed on his side of the room, Sam definitely asleep in the bed beside him like he’d been Dean’s whole life but no problem, he could be quiet he was always quiet, he was so horny he could cry, he just needed to come he was buck ass naked and Cas was fully dressed, trench coat and all, but Cas was running his hands down Dean’s body, sparks flying under the covers, crackling loud like Fourth of July sparklers, the covers smouldering above them and Dean was panicking they’d wake up Sam but Castiel snorted, shaking his head that Dean need not worry, his lips glowing red hot, the blanket bursting into flames as Castiel’s lips wrapped around the head of Dean’s cock and Dean couldn’t help the groan that tore from his lips, desperately trying to fuck up further into the searing heat of Castiel’s mouth but he couldn’t get any deeper Cas was just out of reach, Dean just needed to come, *So*. *Bad*, but there was banging on the door, his Dad’s voice yelling - _

_ He was back in his Baby, still buck naked, but in the back seat this time, Castiel’s hand on the back of his head, pulling him down to fuck his face, and Dean wept with relief, he was *allowed* to come when Cas was fucking his face, *encouraged* to come, so long as he could do it without touching himself of course, but not until Cas did, so he did his best, flattening his tongue and meeting Castiel’s thrusts gladly, eagerly, hungrily, but Cas just wouldn’t come, endlessly fucking him, lifting him, finally, into his lap, like their first time, to fuck him hard and fast, pleasure rippling over every millimeter of Dean’s skin and pulsing in his hole around Castiel’s cock, he was allowed to come now, as many times as he wanted, anytime Cas was full-on fucking him - unless he said not to - but he *needed* to wait, he desperately wanted to feel the delicious heat of Castiel’s pleasure flooding inside him, it was So. Fucking. Magical to come *with* his Angel if he could, an intimacy he secretly craved, but Castiel wouldn’t come and Dean wasn’t going to be able to stop himself, he could feel his wave approaching with every thrust, every lift and drop, Cas pulling him down to roughly kiss him, ozone in each breath, huffing fast and shallow from Castiel’s lips and burning Dean alive, tears coursing down his cheeks he just needed *relief*, crying out, “Please, Cas, PLEASE -” _

Dean’s eyes flew open, Castiel’s hand on his shoulder, no clothes on him but Castiel never felt naked to Dean, dressed or not his presence felt the same _ ,  _ serene and gorgeous and rock-hard in every way, his perfect flesh practically glowing and his eyes jet black in the darkness of Dean’s bedroom.

“Your need called out to me, as a prayer.”

Dean couldn’t form words, he didn’t even try, tears still streaming down his face, a sob escaping as he yanked his covers off and held out his arms and Castiel lithely flowed on top of him to join their bodies, his first thrust gentle, leaning down to swallow Dean’s whimper with soft lips, his second thrust not gentle at all, leaning up on one hip, his weight feather light yet somehow simultaneously a steel beam crushing Dean’s thigh, to reach between their bodies, his hand crackling with heat and electricity and instantly -  _ deliciously _ \- slippery, closing around Dean’s aching cock to move in time with the slow undulations of his body, Dean so pent he was coming the moment Castiel’s hand closed, sobbing his relief into Castiel’s mouth as Castiel coaxed his orgasm to last longer than should be possible, an eternity of pleasure, finally releasing him, his hand clean and dry, to grip Dean’s wrists and pin them over his head, Castiel’s teeth finding the column of Dean’s neck, clamping down, hard, as his hips lost their rhythm and he panted and growled against Dean’s neck, spilling his pleasure into his human.

Castiel collapsed on top of Dean, lifting just his torso to gaze down at Dean’s stunned long-distance stare, soft fingers brushing Dean’s sweat-soaked nightmare hair from his forehead, wiping the tear streaks from his cheeks.

“I’m sorry I didn't dare join or disturb your dream, Dean, even though I could feel your need, not until you called my name. It would probably be risky for me to join you anyway, until we leave this day.”

Dean blinked up at Castiel, dazed, basking in the afterglow of sheer, blessed,  _ relief _ .

“Why not?”

A shadow crossed Castiel’s face, and his eyes fell to Dean’s mouth, his voice low and…  _ shy _ .

“I don’t know what would happen if I murdered figments of your subconscious in a jealous rage. I think that might do irreparable damage to your psyche, so I chose not to risk it.”

“Cas -”

" _And_ I had no reason to wake you, if your desire was not… for me _._ "

" _ Cas! _ "

Castiel shuddered, refusing to meet Dean’s eyes, his expression flickering between rage and despair, and Dean dared to reach for his face with both hands to try to force eye contact, fully confident that if Castiel were unwilling, his attempt would be moot anyway.

Castiel allowed himself to be made to meet Dean’s eyes, his face resentful and vaguely ashamed, Dean’s soft smile notwithstanding.

" _ What? _ "

Husky as it came out, Dean’s voice did not crack.

"Cas, you're  _ all I think about _ . I don’t want anyone else, okay? I  _ can’t get enough of you _ ; you fuck me all day long and I still dream about you -  _ only  _ you _ \-  _ all night. I only have…  _ those  _ kinds of dreams about you, now. Since the first time we… hooked up, I guess.”

Dean winced at the inadequacy of his language, nodding solemnly, his face sheer conviction promising he meant _ every word,  _ as Castiel’s expression traveled from disbelief to  _ relief _ to soft, shy, unmistakable pleasure, his uncharacteristic bashfulness utterly endearing.

“At first, you used to let me come, but lately my subconscious must know it’s not really you, and - _fuck_ \- I was _so frustrated,_ Cas, I _needed_ _you_. _So. Bad._ ”

Dean’s eyes misted in echoes of the desperation he’d felt, and it was Castiel’s turn to cradle Dean’s face in his hands, his eyes no longer black in the darkness, glowing slightly silver from within.

“I am  _ so _ sorry, Dean. It was never my intent to cause you suffering with my delay, but I let my jealousy cloud my better judgement. I felt your agony, but... “ Castiel’s voice dropped, his eyes guiltily sliding sideways. “I feared my reaction if your desire - if your  _ noises -  _ were not meant for me.”

Dean covered his intake of breath with a little cough, but he couldn’t hide his other reaction, his cock crushed between their bodies but still managing to press insistently against Castiel’s stomach, and he flushed as Castiel met his eyes again, astonished.

“You do not fear my wrath?”

Dean was feeling a lot of things right now, but none of them were fear, exactly, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from falling to Castiel’s mouth, his voice low and husky and more than a little strained when he managed to form words.

“Is it wrong I think it’s hot you’re jealous? Anyways, why should I?  _ All _ my noises are yours now, _ Sir. _ ”

Castiel hissed in a breath, hard and sharp, staring at Dean’s mouth as he kept talking, his voice half an octave lower and considerably huskier than usual.

“The  _ first _ time, in my dream, we were on the hood of my car. On a high cliff, overlooking a city, and you were watching me touch myself. It was cold, but I wasn’t cold because you were there, and when you kissed me - “ Dean shuddered, watching Castiel’s breath huff out over his lips. “But then there was a car coming, so we had to bolt.

“The second time, it was a motel and you - uh - put your mouth on me -  _ fuck  _ I could feel you it felt so  _ real _ , Cas, I was  _ dying _ to come, but you kept getting further away and then the covers were on fire, and uh, we got interrupted -”

Castiel’s eyes were glued to Dean’s mouth, his cock jabbing painfully against Dean’s inner thigh, and Dean trailed off, distracted, until Castiel hissed, “ _ And then? _ ”

“ _And then_ we were in Baby’s back seat, and you were fucking my face, and I was _So. Happy,_ but then you, uh, you just... wouldn’t come, and I was _dying,_ like, it hurt so bad I was _crying_ , and then you lifted me into your lap to fuck me -”

“That one.”

“What?” 

“I want to do that one. What was I wearing?”

Dean was speechless, too stunned to move as Castiel smoothly rolled off him and onto his feet, no less gorgeous or rock-hard than he had been when he’d first shaken Dean awake, waiting impatiently.

“You - uh - everything -”

“ _ You  _ will be naked.”

“I mean, I  _ was - _ ”

“Regardless. Where are your keys?"

"They’re in her -"

"Meet me in the garage in five minutes."

Dean's eyes were enormous, his jaw slack with shock, but he slammed his mouth shut to glance down from the five-alarm lust fire on Castiel’s face to his own body, still shiny with lube and spattered with the evidence of their last hour.

"No, I don't want you to clean up. I want you to walk to the garage in your current state, naked, and filthy. I know it's cold, but you'll be warm enough when I'm done with you."

Dean hadn't voiced the question, but the flush spreading high in his cheeks told Castiel he'd guessed it correctly.

"I  _ like _ you soiled when I'm the one who soiled you. I had no idea I could like such a thing; you are teaching me new things about myself every day."

The noise that escaped Dean’s lips was the perfect accompaniment to the full-body shudder that rippled over the rest of him, and Castiel nodded his approval as he watched.

"Good. I'm glad you like it too. Five minutes."

Castiel didn't even step out the door, he just disappeared, and Dean gaped after him, almost more turned on than he had been when Castiel shook him awake, as if that were possible, trying to decide if that last bit sounded more like a threat, or a promise.


	9. Tuesday Afternoon  (Bring me a Spoon)

“Why do you watch videos of people hurting one another?”

Dean opened his eyes dreamily to look up at Castiel’s face above him, still gorgeous upside down, intent on mapping the freckles on his face with soft fingers.

“It’s not like that. Pain can feel good sometimes, Cas.”

Castiel’s nose wrinkled up a little.

“Certainly I have enjoyed causing pain, in great anger, but I have no wish to harm you, Dean - “

Dean snorted, imagining what Castiel meant.

“Not that kind of pain, Cas. Like, a  _ little  _ pain, if you’re in the right mood, can feel... really good.”

“What kind of mood?”

Dean’s eyes sparkled, his lips curving into a wicked smile, and he found himself suddenly airborne, then deposited in a sitting position on the edge of his bed, blinking, Castiel gone in a flutter of wings, only to reappear beside him with the laptop he had started confiscating out of jealousy what felt like weeks ago. Not that Dean had had a chance to miss it even once.

“Show me.”

Dean nodded, booting her up. At least Castiel had kept her plugged in. He popped open a browser window and clicked open his history, attempting to hand the machine off to Castiel, with no such luck.

Castiel shook his head, his eyes dancing.

“No.  _ You  _ show me. Show me the videos you have already masturbated to, and explain to me what arouses you about each video.”

“Wait,  _ what? _ ”

“Only show me videos we have the equipment for here in the bunker - or enough to approximate it, I trust your ingenuity in that respect -”

“ _ Cas - “ _

“And if you interrupt me again, you will not orgasm again today.”

Dean’s imminent protest ended in the tiniest ‘ _ Eep’,  _ because Castiel was not fucking around.  _ Today  _ could mean any length of time he wanted it to, and Dean’s fingers shook as he reached for the trackpad to click into the last video he’d watched.

This one happened to be a strikingly attractive, dark-haired ‘boss’ in glasses and a tie, railing a pretty blonde twink ‘employee’ over his desk, while simultaneously reddening his ass cheeks with loud slaps from a wooden ruler, and Dean felt his cheeks flush redder than anything on the screen as he felt Castiel arching a single eyebrow at him, Dean studiously avoiding eye contact as hard as he could.

“Don’t we have a wooden spoon in the kitchen?” Castiel asked, his curious tone  _ way  _ too innocent, and Dean gulped, nodding.

“ _ Y-yessir.” _

“Pause this and run and fetch it for me, won’t you, please?”

There really wasn’t any question in Castiel’s question, and Dean obeyed instantly, sliding off the bed in bare feet, grabbing his robe -  _ way  _ too late to hide his boner - only because the bunker was freaking freezing, to race down the hall towards the kitchen, snatch up every wooden spoon in the place so he didn’t get the wrong one, and race back to his bedroom, only slowing as he approached the door because he heard the video going.

Dean tiptoed into his bedroom on tenterhooks to find Castiel fast-forwarding the video in little jumps, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Does the employee  _ deserve  _ this correction? Do I need to be punishing you for something?”

Dean could barely breathe, his erection almost comically tenting his robe as he held up his bouquet of various cooking and serving spoons as though it could hide anything at all from Castiel’s watchful eye.

“Um, for it to be hot, it’s better if it’s fake punishments for sex stuff,” Dean tried, his tone not really sure. “Or real punishments for fake things, I guess. I think it’d really hurt for it to be real.”

“I think I understand. If I were really angry, I might injure or kill you by accident.”

“ _ Jesus, Cas! No!”  _

Castiel looked up in surprise at Dean’s outburst, his head tilting sideways at the hurt look on Dean’s face.

“What, then?”

“ _ Emotionally,  _ Cas. It would hurt my _ feelings  _ if you hit me because you were really mad about something. You’re not supposed to hit your - uh,” Dean faltered, searching for the right noun.

“Your… uh, your  _ me,”  _ he finally whispered, “ _ Never because you’re angry. _ ” 

Castiel nodded seriously, his face terribly grave. 

“I am ashamed of the times in the past I have struck you in anger, Dean, and now that you and I… Now that we…  _ Now, _ I swear to you I will only be rough with you when you want me to be. I seek only to understand. Take off your robe. Come here, sit beside me, and tell me what sorts of things you might like to be punished for.”

Dean had never blushed harder in his life as he obeyed, setting down his spoons to slip out of his robe and pick them back up, none of their wooden handles stiffer than he already was, dragging feet of lead through the viscous quicksand of the carpet to sit down next to his Angel, sexual tension rolling off him in waves.

Castiel’s nostrils wrinkled almost imperceptibly, a delighted,  _ smug  _ smile creasing his eyes and the corners of his lips, as he examined the implements Dean had brought him, pretending not to watch Dean’s reactions to each one.

“You decide,” Castiel decreed, his eyes darkening with enjoyment at Dean’s panic, before taking mercy on him, plucking a midrange implement from Dean’s fingers and nodding for Dean to set the rest down.

“Your desk looks too small, and the library is less intimate. I prefer this room today. I trust bending you over my knees will suffice?”

Dean’s tiny squeak and the rising flush in his cheeks and on his chest told Castiel everything he needed to know, and he meticulously examined the spoon he had chosen for flaws, before striking his own bare thigh experimentally, carefully studying Dean’s reaction to the sound.

“Have you been naughty, Dean?”


	10. Tuesday  (Without Bread)

Dean stepped up the tile stairs meticulously groomed and showered and wearing actual clothes for a change; just a battered henley and sweatpants, but still. He’d even used a little product in his hair today because Castiel’s eyes had lit up the last time he’d done it, but the kitchen was empty.

Worse, there was no bread today, and Dean stifled a groan of dismay, crossing to the fridge as if there was any chance in hell he’d find anything new or interesting in there.

Dean reached for the butter and bacon and eggs and changed his mind halfway to the counter, shoving the bacon back and pulling out the elderly block of parmesan cheese and a beer instead, grabbing an onion from the shelves under the counter while he was at it. Cas didn’t like him drunk but he didn’t mind him tipsy, not that one beer would help much, but there was no point in minding his breath on a day there was no bread.

Dean dragged his feet, caramelizing his onion in butter, sipping his breakfast beer, and enjoying the tiny buzz on his empty stomach. 

_ Might as well. It’s not like I’ll be enjoying anything else today. _

By the time Dean had made a twelve-egg omelette with a cheesy onion center -  _ They’re just gonna respawn tomorrow -  _ and slowly picked his way through about three quarters of his plate, he was feeling good and sorry for himself, but he dutifully wrapped saran wrap over the portion he didn’t feel like finishing, cleaned up his dishes, and resisted the urge to crack open a second beer for ten whole seconds before giving in, draining half of it, and clutching the bottle a little tighter than necessary as he struck out for the library.

Castiel was bent over the same pile of ancient books he was always bent over on a day with no bread, and he looked up in dismay to see Dean approaching him.

“Oh! Good morning, Dean, I’m so sorry, I lost track of time. I forgot to make you bread -”

“I know. It’s okay, Cas,” Dean soothed, stopping at the far end of the table. Cas didn’t like him looking at the books. 

“Do you want me around today, or?” 

Dean tried to keep his tone light, but a tiny bit of petulance crept in despite his best efforts, and Castiel’s face fell, covering his flash of anguish in an instant, but he still looked so sad Dean’s entire body ached to comfort him, even though he knew Castiel wouldn’t want him that way today.

“Am I so predictable?” Castiel sighed, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. He gazed at Dean with such sorrow on his face Dean didn’t know how to answer. 

But Castiel was waiting, and Dean took a deep breath and tried, his voice husky and cracking. 

“On the days you don’t make bread, uh, you don’t want me. Sir _. I’m sorry? _ ”

Castiel was surging to his feet, but he wasn’t angry, he was sad, and he crossed the distance between them to cup Dean’s face in both hands and kiss his mouth, his kiss chaste but so gentle Dean forgot he tasted of onions and beer and melted into Castiel’s arms, trying not to let his body respond but he couldn’t help it, he was conditioned now, his breath hitching with want as his body flooded with heat he knew he wouldn’t be needing; heat he  _ knew  _ was just going to hurt in a minute.

Castiel broke the kiss to caress Dean’s face, his eyes shimmering so brightly Dean’s glazed too, just to see the sorrow on his Angel’s face.

“ _ I always want you, Dean,”  _ Castiel whispered. “ _ On days when I - on days with no bread - it just hurts too much not to have you, so I try again, and I fail again.” _

That made no sense but Dean didn’t dare ask for clarification, so he just waited for the inevitable impossible instruction, squaring his shoulders to receive his sentence.

“Will you sit at my feet while I read?”

Dean nodded yes, his eyelids fluttering shut as he whispered, “ _ Yes, Sir, I can do that, _ ” sucking in a deep breath to steel himself to being that close to Castiel’s body without relief. At least this one wasn’t as bad as some of his other requests -

“Without raiment?”

Dean’s eyes flew open in disbelief, gaping at Castiel’s hopeful expression.

“You  _ know _ what being near you does to me, don’t you,  _ Sir? _ ”

Castiel nodded, the approval on his face doing absolutely nothing for Dean in the face of his mounting exasperation.

“And you want me to sit at your feet. Naked. With a boner. On a day we  _ both know _ you won’t fuck me.”

Castiel nodded solemnly, the last delicate wisps of hope on his face evaporating at Dean’s expression. 

Castiel’s face abruptly slammed shut, and he waved a hand impatiently in dismissal. 

“Go, then, and leave me be until tomorrow. Do whatever you like today; I will close my mind to your thoughts.”

Castiel was already turning away, desultorily closing the books he’d been reading, his energy so distant Dean wanted to cry despite the indignation still rankling about Castiel wanting to torture him. Now that he’d just been given shore leave, basically, with his hand anyway, he didn’t want to go. He could still hear Castiel’s words from their first real argument ringing in his head.

_ You either give yourself to me or you do not. _

The last time he’d jacked off Castiel had been ready to break up with him. 

_ This is a test, right? This has to be some sort of test. _

Castiel was gathering books up into a pile, and he looked up in irritation when Dean cleared his throat.

“Why are you still here?”

That hurt, but Dean pressed ahead, his voice more tremulous than he expected.

“Could I - um - keep my underwear on?”

Castiel shrugged in disinterest, turning away to shelve his books.

“I told you to do as you like today. I don’t care.”

Dean sucked in a huge breath, his stomach in knots.

“At your feet,  _ Sir _ . Could I please keep my underwear on?”

Castiel turned to stare at Dean, vaguely scowling. 

“I am no longer in the mood to read; why depress myself with futile pursuits when the answer is always the same? Why haven’t you left to go masturbate, yet?”

“I don’t  _ want _ to, Cas, I want to be with you. I’m sorry I couldn’t do it, it’s just - it’s  _ humiliating -” _

“That’s the  _ point _ .”

“Wait, what?”

Dean was too surprised to be affronted.

“Your willing obedience in the face of your discomfort would mean - you know what, it doesn’t matter. I apologize, Dean, I’ll stop asking for things you cannot give, and work to be more appreciative of the things you can.”

Dean didn’t know what was happening or how to stop it, only that it was important to Cas and he’d failed, and his voice broke as he crumpled to his knees, even though Castiel didn’t want him today.

“ _ I’m sorry I disappointed you, Sir.” _

Castiel was beside him in an instant, wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders, cradling Dean’s face to his chest and rocking him gently as Dean lost his fight and the traitorous tears squeezed out from under his eyelids.

“ _You haven’t,_ you have given me _so_ much, Dean. I’m not being fair to you, you are only human and I am asking too much. Thank you for the gift of your chastity today, that is no small thing and I am honored by your sacrifice.”

Dean lifted his face from Castiel’s chest to check if he was teasing, some sort of cruel joke, maybe, but Castiel’s face was soft. He  _ meant _ it, and Dean didn’t understand why Cas cared, only that he’d passed at least the obvious test and Cas was pleased with him, Dean’s eyes welling with fresh tears as his chest heaved with sheer  _ relief _ . 

“Would you like to watch movies with me today, Dean?"

“ _ Really? _ ”

“Yes. I’ll make you a pizza, and I’ll watch you eat popcorn and drink all the beer in the fridge and laugh in all the right places while you watch as many movies as you like, would you like that?”

Dean honestly couldn’t think of anything he’d like more. 

“ _ Yes, please, Sir. _ ”

“Just, Castiel, today,” Castiel murmured, holding out his hand, and Dean clasped it to pull himself to his feet, wiping at his face self-consciously with his sleeve.

“Yes, please, Cas.”

“Good. Now tell me exactly what you’d like on your pizza. Perhaps you should set out the ingredients for me while I get a pizza dough rising, so that I don’t attempt any substitutions you disapprove of.”

Dean couldn’t agree more, eagerly following Castiel to the kitchen to approve ingredient selection, because kalamata olives were in  _ no way _ the same as black olives, sun dried tomatoes not at  _ all _ the same as fresh, and for the love of all things Holy, banana slices and pepper were NOT the same as sliced banana peppers.

  
  
  
  



	11. Tuesday  (Don’t Lie to Me)

“If I can’t lie to you, if it’s so important you would threaten never to touch me again - which  _ didn't tickle,  _ by the way, Cas - over a white lie about whether I liked your  _ bread _ , I don’t see how it’s fair that you can lie to me.”

Dean was upside down in Castiel’s lap, the lamplight making his eyes glow almost yellow, and Castiel’s fingertips stilled their slow stroking through Dean’s hair.

“I have never lied to you, Dean.”

Dean snorted, and Castiel rolled his eyes in response.

“Well, alright. Since we’ve been in here, then.”

Dean shook his head, staring up at Castiel’s puzzled expression.

“You lied about why I can’t see your wings.”

Castiel’s face fell, his lips forming a flat line. Dean could feel Castiel’s body tensing underneath his back, and he struggled to lift himself onto his elbows on the mattress as Castiel disentangled himself from Dean’s body and climbed out of bed, reaching for his clothes.

“ _ Cas -” _

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Castiel had his trousers on and was buttoning up his dress shirt before Dean worked up the courage to speak again.

“This has to be a two-way street, Cas. I know you’re stronger than I am and you could do anything you wanted to me whether or not I wanted it, wipe my memory and I wouldn’t even know you’d done it -”

“Dean, I would  _ never - how could you even say that -” _

Castiel was horrified, frozen with his tie halfway tied around his neck, and Dean continued, his voice low and angry.

“You took my memories for months, Cas.  _ Months. _ That was a  _ violation _ , I don’t think you understand how bad, but I let that slide because I wanted to  _ be _ with you. But if you’re lying to me now, I can’t trust you, and if I can’t trust you for something small, how can I trust you for something this big?”

Castiel just stared, his jaw slack in shock, before he sank into Dean’s chair, his face utterly wretched.

“I’m  _ so sorry, Dean.  _ I didn’t think -”

“I know you didn’t, and told you, I forgive you for that as long as you forgive me for being a tool the whole time.”

Dean sucked in a deep breath, his shoulders squaring as he faced Castiel.

_ “Why can’t you show me your wings Cas? _ ”

Castiel nodded, his shoulders slumping as he stared at the edge of Dean’s bed, unable to meet his eyes.

“I can show you my wings. I don’t want to.”

Dean was too surprised for the hurt to have time to sink in before Castiel lifted his eyes to meet him, distant thunderstorms sparking lightning over oceans of blue.

“What? Why not?”

“Because I cannot claim you.”

“What do you mean? I saw them when we met, and when you were fighting - “

“Yes. In duty, and in war. But I did not feel, then, the things that I feel for you now.  _ I cannot claim you. _ ”

Dean stared at Castiel, desperate to understand.

“Why not? What does that have to do with your wings?”

Castiel’s face looked like he was in physical pain, and Dean relented, changing tactics slightly.

“If you could claim me, you’d show me your wings then?”

Castiel nodded, his face suddenly filled with such desperate yearning Dean could barely breathe.

Dean’s voice was barely a whisper as he pressed just a little harder.

“I’m sorry Cas, I  _ need to know.  _ Is this something you found in those books?”

Castiel flinched, and Dean had the sinking realization that there hadn’t been a day without bread since their last argument, what had to be  _ months _ ago now. 

“ _ Why _ can’t you claim me? Do you need my permission? I’m  _ yours _ , you  _ have _ to know I’m yours.”

Castiel shook his head, slowly dragging himself to his feet, as though every limb were too heavy to move. He tied his tie in silence, slipped his suit coat on and stepped to the door, Dean’s stomach in knots, before he turned to answer, no anger on his face, only sorrow.

“I did not lie to you, Dean, but you are correct in surmising that I chose not to divulge the whole truth. It would not be my wings, specifically, posing the danger to you, it would be my  _ claim _ . To bond with a human, it is not only myself I would need to hold in perfect control, it is also - and above all else - _ your will. _ I think we both know how that would end.”

Castiel was gone, the door clicking gently closed behind him, before Dean could react, grateful now, for the small blessing of privacy as the dam in his chest broke free and the tears came, racking sobs he did not expect and could not control, and he staggered across his room to blast his stereo, collapsing back into bed to bury his face in his pillow so Castiel wouldn’t hear him sobbing.

  
  
  


*** 

  
  
  


Dean crept down the hall to look for his Angel. The cool shower had helped, but his whole body still ached from grief, and after several hours of sulking alone he had reluctantly accepted there was only one person on the planet who could soothe him, and by crazy random happenstance, that one person conveniently happened to be locked down in this very bunker with him. 

Dean found Castiel in his Fortress of Dean-a-tude, lying on his back on the overstuffed leather couch Dean had resisted at first, but was now infinitely grateful he had been overruled on by Sam and Cas outvoting him, contemplating the ceiling. Dean hesitantly closed the distance between them to lift his eyes shyly to Castiel’s face, shocked to discover that Castiel’s eyes were rimmed in red, too, his eyes still shinier than they should be, even now.

Castiel made room, shimmying sideways and holding out his arm, and Dean sank down next to him, snuggling into the crook of his arm and against his side, to silently contemplate the ceiling with him.

After a minute Castiel snorted and trailed an index finger over Dean’s forehead, and now Dean could see the heavens splayed out above them, an infinity of stars stretching away from them, vast and breathtaking, and he sighed softly at their splendor.

They lay like that for several minutes, or maybe hours, Dean had no idea how to tell anymore, content just to be near his Angel, and when Castiel finally broke the silence, his voice was rough with emotion.

“In all these galaxies, there is nothing so beautiful as you, Dean. Your soul burns  _ so _ bright.”

Dean’s eyes stung, his vision blurring as he stared at the stars, not trusting himself to look at Castiel without losing his composure, his voice trembling despite every effort he made to control it.

“I give myself to you every day. Why can’t you... accept my gift?”

Castiel’s eyes fluttered shut and the heavens blinked out into the plain white ceiling of the bunker again. He reached for Dean’s hand, to clasp it tightly in his.

“I  _ cherish _ you, Dean, more than I can possibly express. You  _ do  _ give yourself to me and it is wrong of me to be so selfish. I am so sorry. I should not have burdened you with my struggle. I wish I had never told you I wanted more.”

Dean lifted himself up on one elbow, daring to caress away the tears squeezing out from under Castiel’s eyelashes with soft fingers.

Castiel’s voice was far away, dreamy, when he finally spoke again, so quietly Dean could barely make out his words. 

“ _ In all my centuries, I have never before desired to take a mate. I had no idea it could hurt so much to resist. _ ”

Dean was struck speechless, his heart skipping beats in the staccato drum solo suddenly playing in his chest.

_ Mate?  _

Dean suddenly couldn’t breathe, paralyzed in his frozen body while his mind furiously reexamined every conversation they’d ever had, every time Cas had ever used the word ‘claim’ meaning something completely different now.

_ He said he wanted to possess me in the way of his kind, which did *not* sound fun. And he said he’d claim me when I was ready, I guess, but I thought it was some weird Cas code for whatever kind of thing we’ve got going on. But.. MATE? _

Dean’s mind rapidly flipped through his carefully organized rolodex of Castiel’s vague hints and cryptic sentences, his long nights in the library, his off the map requests on the days with no bread.

_ He was looking for a way to *tame* me. Not to torture me. So he could make it safe to ‘bond with a human’ - so he could make me his MATE. He wants to make *me* his MATE. _

Suddenly, Dean had never wanted anything more. Fiercely, desperately, nothing else mattered in the _entire universe_ but having this with Castiel, _being claimed by his Angel,_ and his voice shook, his heart in his throat, as he cleared his throat to ask the question.

“ _ What would it take to make that happen? _ ”

Castiel’s eyes snapped open, endless seas of soft sorrow, glowing almost silver as if lit from within.

“I don’t know, Dean. The scribes speak in hints and whispers of rumors, of the perfect surrender of the rare humans successfully mated. But sometimes, when you are underneath me, I can feel my grace and your soul align in perfect harmony, and it is sheer agony not to wrap my wings around you and make you mine. Every time you surrender yourself to me it feels a little less impossible.”

Dean could barely get the words out, his voice husky as all hell.

“ _ Show me how to belong to you, Cas. _ I don't care what it costs. Whatever it takes,  _ I'm all in _ .”

Castiel's strangled sob ended in an ear-splitting roar, and Dean found himself abruptly pinned on his back on the ceiling, dizzy and disoriented as gravity pulled him down and Castiel pushed him up, Castiel’s body below him yet somehow also above him, Castiel’s tongue in his mouth, nimble fingers fighting with belt and trousers, reaching for the belt of Dean’s robe, and it wasn’t until Dean moaned a distressed mumble of protest that the world spun and he found himself pinned on his back on the couch instead, Castiel’s whispered apologies in no way interfering with the work of his hands or his mouth, his lips throwing sparks across Dean’s vision and all of his nerve endings at once as he kissed away the tears on Dean’s face, kissed away the pain of their argument, kissed away every last shred of Dean’s baffled resentment over all the humiliating things Castiel had ever asked for and Dean had either disappointed him with reluctant obedience or flat out refused, Castiel’s despair that had seemed so unwarranted at the time making perfect sense to Dean now as he answered Castiel’s kisses with ardor of his own, kissing back so eagerly Castiel gave way, Dean the one whispering apologies now, “ _ I’m so sorry Cas I didn’t understand I will give you whatever you need whatever you ask for I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours it’s all I want *you’re* all I wanmffh,”  _ ending abruptly with Castiel's wail and his tongue in Dean’s mouth, hot tears landing on Dean’s face as Castiel wept, clinging to him desperately, gasping as Dean finished untying his own robe and arched his body invitingly, the way he knew Castiel could never resist, nor did he resist now, his groan muffled in Dean’s mouth as Castiel roughly took what was offered, still weeping without shame, his claim a downpayment, and a promise.


	12. Tuesday Morning  (Claim Me?)

Dean stepped past his day count wall without even glancing at it, his entire body vibrating with tension as he came to rest standing beside the kitchen table, next to Castiel.

“Yes, Dean?”

Castiel had still made him bread, warm and fragrant and waiting, and Dean studied the crust, gorgeously browned and impossible to even think about eating with the nerves eating him alive as he whispered the words he’d been working up the courage to ask again for weeks, a whole new meaning to them now, his voice husky as hell.

“ _ Please, _ Sir _ ,  _ will you fuck me?”

Castiel’s eyes lifted from the recipe he was studying, his head tilting as he studied Dean’s carefully shaven face, and the soft jade glow of his eyes, shyly studying the floor.

“Sit down, Dean. Try the bread.”

Dean sat, his hands trembling just the slightest bit as he reached for the plated slice Castiel was handing him, thick slices of butter melting down into the holes in the grain. There was no jam on the table and Dean didn’t ask for any, lifting the bread to his lips to take a bite.

It was divine, and Dean’s eyelashes fluttered in pleasure as he chewed, swallowed, and set the piece down because that bite was sitting like a brick in his churning stomach.

Castiel raised an eyebrow, and Dean swallowed thickly, answered in a cracking whisper.

“It’s delicious. Thank you.”

Castiel nodded to himself, making a note in the cookbook with a satisfied air about him, and he leafed through a couple pages, his fingers tapping idly on the pages as he read.

“How do you feel about doughnuts?”

Dean just stared, nonplussed, until Castiel looked up at him expectantly, across the table.

“I love doughnuts,  _ Sir,”  _ Dean whispered, and Castiel nodded to himself, circling something and closing the book on his pencil. He tucked it into his coat pocket this time, which Dean had never seen him do before -  _ Wait, is that how his notes don’t disappear? Is he taking that book back with us every morning? _

“Not today, thank you, Dean.”

Dean’s face free fell about a thousand feet and Castiel was suddenly standing beside him, cradling his face in one hand as Dean valiantly fought tears, desperately leaning into the touch.

“You’re not ready yet,” Castiel murmured, answering the question Dean didn’t dare voice. “But I didn’t mean to make you feel for even a moment that I don’t want you, Dean, of _course_ I want you. Go to your room and prepare yourself for me. I’m _sure_ I don’t need to tell you not to orgasm without me. Pray to me when you’re ready.”

Dean couldn’t obey fast enough, falling over himself to race to his bedroom, and Castiel smiled softly to himself, watching him go.

  
  



	13. Tuesday Evening (Heartache)

“It hurts to wake up without you.”

Castiel’s fingers slowed their gentle stroking across Dean’s scalp, and Dean wriggled in his lap, nestling his face insistently into Castiel’s chest until Castiel smiled and resumed his stroking, his face pensive.

“What do you mean? Am I causing you injuries you should be letting me heal?”

Dean shook his head and sucked in a deep breath, breathing in Castiel’s fragrance. He used to smell like a thunderstorm, and he still did sometimes, but now he kind of smelled like apples baking with cinnamon, and Dean’s tongue darted out to taste him, his lips nibbling Castiel’s chest hair until he could feel an eyebrow arching, then he sighed and pressed his ear harder over Castiel’s heart, listening to it beat.

“Not like, physical hurt. Not from physical damage, I mean, it just kind of aches. In here.”

Dean raised a hand to splay it over his chest, and Castiel covered it with his, warm and comforting.

“I can’t heal that kind of hurt, Dean.”

“ _ You know you can, _ ” Dean whispered, his eyelashes squeezing tight against his cheeks, emotion leaking past them all the same. 

“Soon,” Castiel promised, pressing gentle lips to Dean’s forehead. “You have been _so good for me,_ Dean, I am certain you are almost ready. But when that day comes, I told you, I will not be able to hold us in this day any longer. We will be forced to leave these moments behind us forever, and I cannot bear to leave this day yet. Can you?”

Dean shook his head no, his arms wrapping around Castiel’s rib cage to cling, fiercely, desperately, sobbing into Castiel’s mouth when Castiel pressed insistent lips against his mouth, groaning instead when Castiel sat up straighter, lifted him effortlessly without breaking the kiss, to pull him down, hard, his tongue shoving roughly into Dean’s mouth at the same moment as his cock below, Dean crying out as Castiel gripped him by the shoulder blades, his thumbs wrapping around Dean’s ribs digging in almost hard enough to crack them - but he never had again, not since that first accident - as he lifted Dean and  _ slammed  _ him home, Dean’s entire awareness an explosion of sensation, sparks showering across his vision with the glow he could feel starting in Castiel’s eyes, flashing lightning, and rain.


	14. The Last Tuesday

Dean woke up alone, his eyes fluttering open in the dark. Cas must have brought him back a little further this time, or waited longer into yesterday evening, so he could get some real rest; his clock barely said six am this time, and he hadn’t seen it say anything before eight in… he truly had no idea how long.

He stretched languorously, testing his body carefully for aches and pains, and found he was sore in all the  _ best  _ places, his mind flashing back to a conversation that felt like months ago.

_ “Please don’t, Sir -” _

_ “You don’t want me to heal you?”  _

Castiel had been astonished, his hand hovering over Dean’s forehead, and Dean had been surprised to find himself tearing up unexpectedly as he shook his head no, raising his forearm to admire Castiel’s fingerprints, tattooed on his skin as purple bruises.

_ “I like when you leave marks. Nothing feels sprained this time, and the places I’m sore make me feel like I’m yo - make me feel, uh, good.” _

_ Dean hadn’t dared say more, but Castiel’s eyes had gone so soft Dean had moaned his answer, and Castiel had reached for Dean’s face with both hands, his kiss so gentle Dean whimpered, until it wasn’t gentle anymore, but Dean went right on whimpering for completely different reasons, Castiel rolling on top of him and claiming him where he was already so sore pulling tears to his eyes for real but he arched into the pain, kissing and kissing and kissing, meeting each of Castiel’s grinding thrusts with rolling undulations of his own, until Castiel groaned and his rhythm faltered, one final thrust and - _

Dean shuddered, enjoying his fresh erection without experiencing even the slightest urge to reach for it.

_ That belongs to Cas. _

Dean savored the way his hole pulsed with exquisite pain with each of his heartbeats, the echoes of pleasure making him feel less alone. Like Cas was still with him, at least a little bit.

Dean abruptly felt achingly lonely, agonizingly, crushingly alone, and his breath hitched with sorrow as he pulled on his robe, shivering, and slipped out of bed to find his Angel.

  
  
  


***

  
  


Dean found Castiel in the war room, watching videos on his confiscated laptop at the map table, and he studied the arms of the chair and the angle of Castiel’s body to the table compared to the chair beside him and just... sank down on the floor at Castiel’s feet instead, hugging his knees to his chest, pressing his body against Castiel’s thigh, content just to be near him.

When Castiel’s hand reached down to pet him Dean sighed with pleasure, gentle fingers stroking through his hair, long soft scratches over and over, and he lost all track of time, Castiel clicking ahead to new videos, tinny moans and grunts coming from the speakers, Dean drifting, not really thinking about anything, just savoring Castiel’s heat against his body and his gentle caresses, over and over.

When Castiel’s hand moved to his shoulder Dean didn’t notice, not until Castiel shook him and called his name, and he felt the touch and heard the call from what felt like far away, blinking slowly and wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his robe, embarrassed to realize he’d drooled on Castiel’s thigh.

“Dean.”

“ _ YSir? _ ” 

Dean’s mouth wasn’t moving right, and he blinked up at Castiel in confusion, trying really hard to focus on him.

“I have no instructions for you today; you may decide how we will spend it. What is your heart’s desire, Dean?"

Dean's forehead furrowed, staring up at Castiel.

"I - I just want to be with you. Whatever you want,  _ Sir. _ "

" _ Perfection,"  _ Castiel breathed, “Dean, I am  _ so _ pleased with you."

Dean shuddered as Castiel’s approval affected him like a physical caress, Castiel watching with satisfaction as the pleasure rippled over him in waves of chills. 

“Is there something you’d like to ask me? Anything you ask of me today, you shall have it.”

Dean’s brow furrowed as he tried to understand, his chest suddenly too tight to breathe as the desperate hope took hold, the adrenaline hitting him so hard he gasped out loud.

“ _ Really?" _

Castiel nodded, a gentle hand reaching out, now, to wipe the one tear threatening to fall from Dean's left eye.

"You’re ready.” 

Castiel’s hands cradled the sides of Dean's face, so he could lean down and press a gentle kiss, light as a feather, to Dean's forehead.

When he lifted his face away, Castiel's eyes were very bright, and he wiped Dean's tears away with such tenderness Dean couldn't help but reach for him, clinging to his hands with soft fingers, which Castiel lifted to his lips to kiss, one after the other, before releasing Dean and standing up from his chair, to yawn and stretch, a tiger in a trench coat.

Dean instantly scrambled to his knees, to wait quietly, and he lifted his eyes from the floor only at Castiel's gentle command.

"Look at me.”

Castiel’s face was deadly serious, more grave than Dean had ever seen him, and he instantly snapped to attention, his eyes studying Castiel’s face intently.

"Dean Winchester, since the moment I raised you from perdition, my existence has never been more difficult to bear, and yet I would do it all again without a moment’s hesitation. Every injury by your tongue or by your hand that I have suffered I would gladly suffer again, if it brought me closer to this moment. Every battle I have fought by your side I would fight again, a thousand times over, just to die beside you. _ Falling in love with you _ has been the deepest pain and yet the greatest joy I have ever known.”

Dean’s eyes were twin moons, his jaw slack, staring up at his Angel.

“If I do this, I will be bound to you, Dean. My grace to your soul, my life to yours. If you let me possess you, you will also possess me. 

"Do you love me, Dean?”

Dean nodded slowly, his eyes sparkling with tears.

“I do. You  _ have to know  _ I do. I’m  _ so  _ sorry that I ever hurt you, Cas, and I  _ promise  _ I will try as hard as I can never to hurt you again.”

"I am no innocent, Dean. I have caused death and suffering to untold multitudes of men and Angels alike, but in all my centuries, there is no injury I regret causing more than raising my hand to you. I vow to you now, should my sword be drawn again, it will be to stand with my back to yours. Come what may, I shall turn my wrath upon you nevermore."

Dean shuddered at Castiel’s feet, the force of Castiel’s conviction so strong he could feel the weight of Castiel’s words stacking on his chest, heavy stones and he was drowning, but if this was drowning let the ocean take him, he never wanted to breathe air again.

“Will you honor my bond, Dean, if I take you to be mine? Will you give yourself to me completely, and to no other, for so long as we both shall live?”

“I  _ will _ .”

Castiel hesitated, one hand gently caressing Dean’s cheek.

“I mean this quite literally, Dean. If either of us betrays this bond, you will almost certainly explode - or possibly burst into flames, the scribes could not agree - and your death will kill me, on  _ that  _ there was no question. Although  _ my  _ death will of course be a slow, agonizing torture over many hours, my consciousness bound to the vessel I wore when I claimed you, as my grace leaves this body to follow your soul into death until there remains not a solitary breath of life left in it -”

“Cas -”

“We get  _ one _ chance, Dean, we are too far out of phase with real time for me to pull your soul back from death. If I kill you, you will be lost to me. And there is still a risk, should I be wrong that you are ready to be claimed, if you are hiding reservations, if some part of you will not submit to me, I could kill you - and perhaps myself - in the process, although if I killed you I would  _ embrace _ death -”

“ _ Cas! _ ”

Castiel fell silent, his face haunted now, and he allowed Dean to reach for his hand and grasp it in both of his, Dean’s touch more comforting than he let himself admit.

“It's all I want. _You'r_ e all I want. We’re not going to die, because _I want to_ _belong to you_. _"_

Castiel smiled suddenly, brighter than the sun Dean could barely remember, and so wicked Dean couldn't help but smile back, even through the tears freely flowing down his cheeks.

" _ Beg me for it." _

Dean fought for air through a chest-wracking sob, his face serene, but his voice absolutely wrecked, and when he obeyed, his words were perhaps not what Castiel had in mind, Castiel’s entire body shuddering as each word hit him square in the chest like a blow.

“Castiel,  _ Angel of the Lord _ , for the love of all things Holy, C _ laim me. _ I don’t care if I explode, which I won’t, because I want to be yours more than  _ anything _ . More than air. More than all the things I miss, more than I want to hear my brother’s voice or see the sun or drive my Baby or eat cheeseburgers and pie - or Christ even wear  _ jeans _ again - I have  _ willingly _ stayed in this eternal day for half a lifetime,  _ waiting _ for you to claim me, and if that day is today  _ Sweet Jesus, *fuck me*, break me in *half*, I don’t care, whatever it is Cas I am *yours* if you will just. Please. TAKE ME -” _

Dean’s litany ended on a gasp, because Castiel’s back was arching, the room darkening, but it wasn’t the room, it was Castiel’s  _ wings  _ filling the room, filling the  _ Universe,  _ made of night and lightning and stars, Castiel’s feet not quite on the ground anymore, naked now but that never mattered his presence always felt the same to Dean either way, and then Castiel held out his arms, and Dean stood, his robe slipping from his shoulders, stepping forward with reverence, he could feel how important this moment was, how  _ heavy,  _ but he did not hesitate, his eyes reflecting lightning and constellations of stars, his arms reaching out for his Angel, music coming from somewhere, just one chord, a harmony at the edge of awareness but growing stronger, darkness wrapping around him like the softest silk, his feet lifting from the ground as Castiel’s hands, so familiar, but brand new at the same time, wrapped around his waist, lifted him to wrap his thighs around Castiel’s hips, ready, eager, his heart hammering a new song,  _ his wedding march _ , every beat joy, joy, JOY, and then Castiel threw back his head and  _ roared _ , and every light in the bunker shattered at once, glass tinkling down and emergency generators spinning up somewhere far away as Dean bared his neck for his predator and Castiel’s true teeth found Dean’s soul through his flesh and he made his mark, baring his grace for Dean to do the same, intoning the syllables to repeat, his true form glowing brighter and brighter with each sound that fell from Dean’s lips, the two of them spinning in slow circles in the air, Dean’s entire body glowing from within, the color of fire, the light pulsing, like his skin was paper thin and his soul might burst, but it held, it  _ held,  _ mortal soul and divine grace flowing between them, swirling in eddies like liquid, or smoke, until there was no telling where the one began and the other ended, no knowing how much grace slipped into the man nor how much soul into the Angel, Dean’s physical need increasing exponentially with each consecutive moment Castiel did not fuck him, the agony in his body resonating in Castiel’s vessel as he marveled in wonder at the perfection of his human, laid him down on the glowing map of the earth to claim him in the way he needed, which had truly grown on Castiel more than he had ever anticipated possible, that harmonic chord ringing all around them and growing louder as he spread his wings above them just to revel in Dean’s delight, Dean’s eyes impossibly wide as Castiel gripped his wrists to pin them above his head, to join their bodies with the gentlest touch he had ever offered his human, the kindest thrust in thousands upon thousands of claims, the softest press of his lips, Castiel’s weight borne aloft by wings and grace, his caresses only tenderness, his lips whispering his love in a thousand tongues, his human weeping and writhing underneath him, his human,  _ his, HIS,  _ the mortal and the divine, joined as one, death be damned,  _ this _ was  _ forever _ . 

  
  



	15. Wednesday Morning

Dean’s eyes blinked open in confusion, something disorienting and different in this bunker dream, a wall of unfamiliar heat keeping his naked body warm and toasty. It was pitch dark as always, the lack of windows in the bunker making telling day from night impossible without clocks but there were _stars_ in this darkness, and he reached out uncertainly to find his fingers meeting something living, velvet soft, rustling and crackling with electricity at his touch, and he gasped with incredulous delight, stroking the feathers with clumsy fingers.

Castiel stirred beside him, rolling towards him to wrap impossibly strong arms around him, adding to the embrace of his wing already curled around Dean. He pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead, his whisper carrying perfectly in the intimate embrace of his wings.

“I thought you’d  _ never _ wake up.”

Dean snorted groggily at the joke his subconscious thought was funny, popping his back and grimacing at the morning breath on his tongue and the pressure screaming in his bladder, but Castiel’s feather light touch trailed over his lips and his mouth was April fresh, Castiel’s lips brushed over his mouth, his tongue questing, his weight leaning Dean’s way, mistaking Dean’s moan of pain for one of interest as he rolled on top of Dean and Dean yelped, ‘ _ bladder’. _

Castiel smoothly rolled off Dean and onto his back, interlocking his hands behind his head and tucking his wings away, while Dean paused for a couple seconds he did not have to marvel that his subconscious found no need to embellish Castiel’s  _ generous _ endowment, leaving every part of him exactly as Dean remembered. 

_ He’s absolutely perfect. _

Castiel stared at the ceiling, grousing something about human limitations, while Dean bolted to the bathroom in no small amount of panic, and without a shred of dignity  _ or  _ clothing.

When Dean returned to his pitch dark bedroom, slightly more lucid, Castiel was still there.

“I thought I dreamed you,” Dean whispered, crawling up the bed to lay his head on Castiel’s chest.

“Perhaps you did,” Castiel answered, stroking soft fingers through Dean’s hair, his voice so soft Dean’s chest hurt.

“If I’m dreaming -  _ if I wake up from this _ \- I don’t think I’ll survive.”

“Then let’s make it a good one,” Castiel whispered, leaning down to catch Dean’s sob with soft lips.

This time when Castiel rolled on top of him Dean made no protest, sucking in another rattling sob and arching his neck for Castiel the way he liked, gasping as Castiel chose to sink his teeth in today, not quite to blood, crying out as Castiel claimed him with one rough, delicious thrust, fireworks exploding behind his eyelids but something different, something magical, his eyes fluttering open to take in a universe of stars above him as Castiel’s back arched above him and his wings thrashed out hard enough to strike the walls on either side of the room, his eyes glowing blue as his lips parted to growl, “ _ Say my name. _ ”

Dean could barely breathe, staring up at the absolutely gorgeous creature above him - _inside him -_ _his_ now, * _his*, HIS,_ his voice breaking as he repeated the syllables Castiel had taught him yesterday, or earlier in this dream, he had no way to be sure.

Castiel shook and trembled, each syllable an impact, throwing back his head to  _ roar _ as Dean finished speaking, Castiel’s entire body glowing now, bright white, almost blue, his wings thrashing and rustling, throwing sparks, and Dean was astonished to look down and realize he was glowing too -  _ did this happen yesterday? -  _ lit from within, his skin a warm, incandescent peach, like when he’d shine a flashlight between his fingers as a child, Castiel leaning down to press glowing lips to his mouth, to murmur his name in a dozen languages, to reach one hand between their bodies to grip Dean’s cock, rocking now, every thrust caressing that delicious spot Cas liked to tease inside him, but he wasn’t teasing now, his hand slick, his tongue gentle, his mouth forming words in Dean’s mother tongue, Dean was moaning too loudly to hear them but he could  _ feel _ them, living things, landing in his chest and pulsing there, glowing white hot.

“ _ I love you, Dean.” _

Dean  _ howled _ , the keening cry starting low in his stomach and tearing from his throat as raw emotion, his back arching desperately up into the white hot fire of Castiel’s torso, burning him alive and simultaneously healing him better than new, as Castiel leaned down to kiss him through his wave, too intense to be a dream, nothing in Dean’s subconscious could feel this good, this  _ right,  _ and he shut his eyes as Castiel’s back arched, his grace glowing so bright Dean could still see him through his eyelids, feel silky soft wings wrapping around him, thrashing as Castiel’s grace flowed into Dean with his climax, the warm glow of Dean’s soul answering and flowing right back, resonating, in a joyous, perfect chord, ringing from their chests, that only the two of them could hear.

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


When his phone rang, Dean almost fell out of bed in shock. Castiel groaned, lifting his wing so Dean could disentangle their limbs, and Dean stumbled to his desk in the dark, gingerly picking up his phone from the glittering shards of glass under his desk lamp, to drag the green icon sideways with shaking fingers.

“Dean! Do you guys have power?”

Dean couldn’t breathe, tears springing to his eyes as he tried to find his voice.

“You okay, Dean?”

Dean nodded, as if that would help, Castiel’s hand on his shoulder steadying him, and he found his voice to whisper, “Yeah, Sammy, I’m okay. Just missed your voice, man.”

“I called you yesterday,” Sam chided gently, his voice softening over the line. “I mean, for  _ you,  _ who knows -”

“What do you mean?” 

Dean’s skin prickled, the hairs on the back of his neck rising, but Sam ignored his question to barrel forward brightly.

“We’re heading your way. Power outages since last night, something blew out most of the midwest power grid all the way to Texas, a huge power surge starting near you two, know anything about that?” 

Dean gulped but said nothing, leaning into Castiel’s comforting presence behind him, and Sam continued without missing a beat. 

“Rolling brownouts now but they’re working on it - haven’t you checked the news yet if you have power? - anyways, the notices went out this morning that the new vaccines are effective, and the shelter in place mandates are gonna be lifted in a couple weeks after everyone gets one. They've started sanitizing city centers and limited travel is now allowed for further trips than restocking. Eileen was on it the second they started the travel permit lottery and we got lucky, so we figure we’ll come to you, spend the last couple weeks of quarantine catching up. Need anything easy? We have masks and gloves and there’s bound to be something open between us, even if we stick to back roads.”

Suddenly Dean had all the words in the world.

“Oh god  _ ketchup,  _ and any kind of cheese, and can you get - are there  _ apples? _ I can thaw beef - we can have  _ cheeseburgers -  _ and get me different beer, I am so sick of El Sol and can you get potato chips and I would  _ kill  _ for ice cream, any flavor except mint chocolate chip, and  _ milk,  _ and - and Cap’n  _ Crunch _ \- Cas, can we make  _ french fries, _ if they find ketchup?”

Castiel nodded, the soft smile on his lips at Dean’s excitement unable to hide the sorrow underneath it, and Dean’s face fell, looking at him.

“And light bulbs, as many as you can find,” Dean finished lamely, unsure now. “How long ‘til we see you?”

“Oh, we’re still packing and it’s a solid six hours from here to you, plus shopping, but slow your roll on getting your hopes up, Dean, we’ll do our best but no promises. You’ve got half a day at least. We should see you for late dinner, maybe?”

“I can’t  _ wait,”  _ Dean breathed. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Sam whispered. “Eileen sends her love. To Cas, too.”

“Right back at her,” Dean murmured. “See you soon.”

He ended the call with his heart heavy, overjoyed to see Sam and Eileen again, but turning to his Angel with concern on his face.

“What’s wrong, Cas?”

Castiel looked like he could cry.

“I thought we’d have more time, Dean. I - I selfishly kept you _ all to myself,  _ and it was over  _ the very next day.  _ I will  _ never  _ forgive myself -”

“Hey! None of that.” Dean’s hands slid up Castiel’s back and he sank his fingers into feathers made of midnight, marvelling at the electricity crackling across his fingertips as Castiel shuddered from the touch.

“I wouldn’t give up a  _ second  _ of it, Cas.  _ Not one second  _ that brought us to where we’re standing, do you hear me?”

Castiel nodded, his face still forlorn. Dean suddenly realized he could see perfectly, even though the room was pitch black, but that wasn’t important right now.

“ _ Cas.  _ When we started down this road, I said  _ whatever it cost _ , and I  _ meant _ it." 

Dean pressed gentle lips to the corner of Castiel's mouth, murmuring soft and low.

"You never took anything from me. I had to give myself to you, don't you remember?"

It was working, Castiel's sullen despair reluctantly becoming a small smile. 

"I could not bend you to my will. I gave up on having you like - like  _ this _ . Only once you forced me to admit  _ why _ I wanted the things I asked for, once you  _ understood _ , only then did you truly become mine."

"Yes, exactly. When I  _ chose  _ to."

Dean's fingers stroking Castiel’s feathers were having an effect of their own, Castiel’s wings involuntarily rustling, iridescence Dean hadn’t seen yesterday shimmering ultraviolet light along the edges of each feather, Dean could see them clearly now, if he concentrated. Castiel’s entire body shuddered from Dean’s caresses, and Dean slotted the length of his body invitingly against Castiel’s, drawing a groan from Castiel’s lips.

"But we need to clean up broken glass, and  _ certainly  _ the map table, before your brother arrives -"

"We've got  _ hours,  _ Cas."

Dean's fingers were magical, he was playing a symphony of crackling sparks across Castiel’s nerve endings, gripping thick handfuls of silky black and tugging a little, Castiel's eyes rolling back in his head, his breathing ragged and heavy. 

"What will we tell them?"

Dean's fingertips raked down acres of rustling feathers as he slowly sank to his knees, his lips searing hot and starting to glow as he kissed his way south.

"Whatever you want to tell them. That we're together now. That we held a private commitment ceremony. That you got down on one knee and  _ begged _ me to be yours, and I said yes."

"I most certainly did  _ not -" _

Dean’s eyes sparkled in the dark, his lips lifting from kissing Castiel's navel to whisper hot breath over the tip of Castiel’s cock, Castiel’s entire body shuddering as an embarrassing moan escaped Castiel’s lips.

"Tomato, tomahto," Dean whispered, grinning like a wolf, and then his lips sank over Castiel’s cock and he tugged on Castiel's wings at the same time, and Castiel made a noise he’d never made before in his life, stumbling backwards, Dean’s hands catching him, steadying him to sit on the bed and get his wings comfortable, the delighted discovery on Dean’s face meeting Castiel’s shocked wonder before Dean knelt at his feet to start again, that harmonic chord already ringing before his lips slipped around his Angel’s cock and Castiel’s voice joined the chorus, Dean’s fingers twisting and tugging sparks through midnight feathers, Castiel crying out helplessly, utterly astonished, lost under wave after wave of completely overwhelming pleasure as his Mate - his * _ Mate*, his MATE -  _ enthusiastically unlocked his new achievement.


	16. Wednesday Evening

By tacit agreement, despite both knowing only yesterday technically counted, Dean and Castiel spent their day deep cleaning the bunker, grinning at each other in fond recollection each time they passed one another with mops and brooms and rags as they swept up glass and scrubbed every surface they had ever fucked on, including the entire Fortress of Dean-A-Tude ceiling, since the single white patch in what turned out to be a slightly gray ceiling was way more suspicious than if Castiel had just left it alone.

By the time six o’ clock rolled around Dean was exhausted and famished, and even Castiel was flagging a little, and he willingly joined Dean in the shower and at the dinner table afterwards, to watch Dean suck down a beer and eat the rest of yesterday’s angel hair carbonara cold, the fastest dish Castiel knew how to make, made and consumed in as few precious minutes as possible - and only after Dean’s body had insisted, loudly, on sustenance - on a day when they had been  _ extremely _ preoccupied with other concerns.

“Did they say what time they’d be arriving?” 

Dean didn’t even swallow, he just talked right through the mouthful he was working on.

“They said six hours plus shopping, and that was what, nine am?”

Castiel grinned at Dean across the table, his teeth orange in the glow of the emergency lights. Only the lights that had been turned on had blown out yesterday, and that was a blessing, because it meant Dean’s laptop and most of the bunker’s equipment remained intact.

“I wasn’t paying attention. I haven’t cared about the hour in - I truly don’t know how long.”

Dean beamed back, his plate empty and his fingers idly playing with the neck of his beer bottle.

“Me neither. D’you think we have time for -”

They did not, the buzz of the bunker alarm sounding as the door opened for the first time in six-odd months - plus one eternal Tuesday - startling, and electrifying.

Dean found himself frozen for just a moment, everything incredibly heavy and the future impossibly unknown, but then Castiel’s hand was on his shoulder and his brother’s voice was yelling, “Hey, why is it pitch dark in here?” and Dean found himself running to the door, Castiel beating him there only by cheating, rescuing the groceries from Sam’s arms just in time for Dean to launch himself into them at full speed, almost knocking Sam over into a beaming Eileen, holding far fewer bags and laughing in delight to see Dean’s joy.

“It’s okay, Dean, I missed you too,” Sam finally murmured, his eyes shinier in the dark than he realized Dean could see, and Dean pulled up, wiping at his eyes and muttering, “Sorry, it just felt like forever.”

Sam turned to hug Castiel even though he was holding groceries and Dean reached for Eileen’s bags and almost fell over himself at the change in her appearance.

“Cas, can you make a light so Eileen can see me - when were you gonna  _ tell  _ us?”

Eileen beamed, easily four months pregnant, maybe more, and Sam preened in the bright white light of Castiel’s hand, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

“We wanted to tell you in person,” Eileen explained, and Sam nodded, smiling. 

“Come on, let’s get unloaded and we’ll shower and you can wipe down groceries and start dinner and we’ll trade stories, okay? I’m sure you have something to tell us, too, huh?”

Dean glanced sharply at Castiel but he looked just as baffled as Dean felt, so he shrugged and fell in lockstep with his brother to help unload Eileen’s truck, Dean needing to take a moment to stare at the sky, before falling into easy small talk about recipes they’d tried and movies they’d watched and absolutely no discussion of certain other ways either of them had spent their time passing their lips, while Castiel and Eileen wiped down groceries with disinfectant in the kitchen.

By the time the chores were done, Dean was starving again, bursting with energy reserves he didn’t know he had in him, and he and Castiel fell to preparing dinner with practiced efficiency, the kitchen smelling amazing with the aroma of Castiel's homemade hamburger buns baking by the time Sam and Eileen reappeared, in different clothes and looking refreshed.

Somehow Castiel had french fries coming up just as Dean had cheeseburgers plated, and the four of them sat down to a feast under the motley assortment of light bulbs Sam and Eileen had managed to find, no sound for a while but the sound of chewing, even Castiel indulging in a french fry with ketchup, his eyes widening in delight as he accepted the bite Dean offered him and slowly chewed it.

“Can you  _ taste _ it?”

“I  _ can.” _

They stared at each other in astonished delight until Sam broke the silence, his eyes very bright.

“So how long were you two in the time loop before you made it official?”

“ _ What?” _

Dean and Castiel turned in unison to gape at Sam, who was beaming at Eileen before turning back to them.

“Come on. My girl and I have a bet going.”

“ _ How did you - “ _

“Come on, Dean, it didn’t take rocket science. Two nights ago I got a text you were making Cas watch Groundhog Day. Yesterday morning the power grid blew out for most of the center of the country and a couple hours later I got so many texts I couldn’t count them all,  _ hundreds and hundreds  _ of them, though, all almost exactly the same, that you were booored and Cas was grumpy and then they started coming at slower intervals in the afternoon, cryptic stuff like ‘Quarantine’s looking up, bro,’” - Sam turned to Eileen, grinning, signed, “What was that one that  _ killed  _ us?” and she signed back, “Baby needs a bath,” and Dean flushed absolutely crimson as Castiel turned to him with one eyebrow raised.

“Did you understand that???” Eileen signed and Dean nodded, still flushing, turning to meet Castiel’s accusatory stare with an apology  _ and _ a question on his face.

Castiel shrugged, still glaring, and Dean shook his head, wincing.

“I didn’t think those texts would go through, and I  _ missed  _ him, Cas,  _ so much _ .”

Castiel’s face softened, his hand reaching out to cradle Dean’s face, and Dean leaned into the touch, fighting tears, while Sam and Eileen shared an “Awww” look.

Castiel turned to face Sam and Eileen as his hand slipped around Dean’s waist.

“We made it official yesterday morning,” Castiel confirmed quietly, “After spending a great deal of time getting to know one another more intimately. I’m afraid I have no way of knowing how long, but it was many hundreds of Tuesdays. Perhaps thousands. We are just discovering the side effects of our bonding, such as, for example, Dean’s apparent understanding of languages he did not previously know, and my being able to taste molecules.”

Sam nodded, completely unsurprised.

“Did you find my notes when you were researching?”

“I did, thank you, Sam. They were invaluable.”

“Wait, what?” Dean gaped from his Angel to his brother and back again. “You  _ knew? _ ”

“Not as such,” Sam soothed, “But come on. I knew  _ someday  _ you two would figure your shit out, and I knew when that happened Cas was going to want  _ everything _ . The heart wants what it wants, right Sweetheart?”

Sam mooned at Eileen and Eileen mooned right back and Dean took the opportunity to clear his throat.

“So, we’re gonna be uncles, huh? Does that mean the new god has a kid brother or sister? Was this… an intentional blessing?”

Castiel’s face lit up like a thousand suns, his delight contagious.

“I’ll be an  _ uncle!  _ How  _ is  _ Jack?”

Sam grinned happily at Castiel.

“I talked to him just yesterday. He and Billie are doing fine, loads of work for them to deal with during this quarantine but that wasn’t Jack’s fault, and that little meteor they dropped on the White House last July really helped get everything back on track nicely.”

Eileen chimed in, smirking.

“Let’s just say we had an unexpected -”

_ “Welcome -”  _ Sam interjected.

“Yes,  _ welcome _ blessing and leave it at that. This apocalypse is letting up, so we figured it was time to come home and let Uncle Castiel do any healing we didn’t dare hit the hospital for, huh?”

“Of  _ course,”  _ Castiel breathed, “it would be my  _ honor.”  _

Castiel started to stand, but Eileen waved him down, laughing,

“After dinner,” she signed, and Dean signed back, “After  _ dessert,”  _ and it was Sam wiping at his eyes this time as he rose to his feet to clear the dishes.

  
  


***

  
  


The dishes were done and the kitchen sparkling and Castiel’s doctor duties taken care of and the pie was out of the oven and entirely devoured - even Castiel oohing and ahhing about how delicious it was to Dean’s satisfaction - and Dean was leaning into Castiel’s side on the leather couch, amorously entwined with the scant remains of a half gallon of ice cream and a spoon, before Eileen, curled in Sam’s lap in one of the arm chairs, remembered something and elbowed Sam in the ribs.

“Tell him the other thing, the present,” she signed.

“What present?” Dean asked through a huge mouthful of ice cream, and Sam’s face lit up like Christmas morning as he leapt to his feet with Eileen still in his arms, to gently deposit her where they’d been sitting before and disappear down the hallway. 

Sam reappeared breathlessly barely ten seconds later with something hidden in his hands.

“So… Eileen and I were watching some really terrible old TV -”

“Get Smart is a  _ classic,  _ Sam!”

“And there was this ridiculous cone of silence, and I got an idea, and I worked it out.”

“Worked what out?”

Sam couldn’t have looked more smug, opening up his hands to reveal several brightly colored hex bags.

“Call it a Quarantine honeymoon with your in-laws gift, until we can get you guys a real wedding gift.”

“Aww, that’s okay, you didn’t have to get us anything,” Dean protested, pleased all the same, but Castiel was keenly interested, reaching out to hover his hand over Sam’s hands without touching yet.

“What do they do, Sam?”

“They contain sound within a twenty foot radius.”

Dean’s eyes widened in surprise, but it was Castiel’s face that was lighting up like Christmas morning now, his smile absolutely wicked as he eagerly snatched the bits of cloth from Sam’s hands.

“ _ Thank  _ you, Sam and Eileen, this is an  _ incredibly  _ thoughtful gift. You have solved a concern that has been weighing on my mind all day. And now, if you’ll excuse us, Dean and I have something pressing to attend to that will occupy us for the rest of the evening.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest but he caught the look on Castiel’s face and his mouth snapped shut again, no sound at all escaping.

“You may wish our family good night. I will expect you in five minutes.”

Castiel was gone in a whisper of feathers and Dean stared into his ice cream, the flush furiously rising on his cheeks.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam murmured. “We know. There was no other way this was gonna shake out. I did the research  _ ages _ before Cas did. There was only one way for him to get you there and when the power blew and then all those text messages came in, we knew you were gonna make it work, no matter how long it took.”

Dean sucked in a slow breath, lifting his gaze to meet Sam’s earnest puppy dog face, tears leaping to his eyes to see it again after all this time.

“I missed you  _ so much _ .”

“I know you did. I thought about you all day yesterday and I  _ knew _ you’re so stubborn he’d need  _ ages,  _ and that he wasn’t going to be able to break you until he actually found his words and told you what he really wanted.”

Dean’s skin prickled with chills.

“You knew before  _ he _ did? Did you say in your  _ notes? Why didn’t he tell me sooner, then???” _

Sam’s eyes were very bright, and he squeezed Eileen’s hand in his.

“I didn’t tell him. Some things you just have to figure out on your own, Dean. My notes pointed to all the books I’d ever found any mention of Angel mating in - some of them just footnotes and vague mentions I found while I was researching other things - stuff he’d never have found in any index - and a couple books on medieval torture just to get the ball rolling.”

“Wait,  _ what??? _ ”

“ _ Kidding,”  _ Sam cackled, “but seriously, I’ve been pulling for you guys for ages. Why do you think Eileen and I spent the winter in a two-room cabin with frozen water pipes, when we could have stayed here?”

Dean had the grace to look sheepish, and grateful, and a little bit affronted all at once, and Sam laughed and reached a mile-long arm across the space to punch him gently in the thigh. 

“So how long were you in there?”

“I don’t know. Years. But I wouldn’t give up a  _ second  _ of it -”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Sam breathed, sharing a glance with Eileen. “Of  _ course _ you wouldn’t. Now hug me goodnight and go to your Angel.”

“ _ You.  _ Are not the boss of me.”

“Ha!”

In the end Dean did hug his brother, so tightly Sam leaked tears, and when he turned to Eileen to kiss her cheek and sign that she was glowing, she said he was too, and he blushed furiously and fled, his time obviously up.

Sam wrapped his arms around Eileen and sighed into her hair, thinking about his big brother finally getting to be happy, his hands unconsciously cradling Eileen’s abdomen, until she lifted her face to be kissed and he lifted her effortlessly in his arms to meet her gentle demands as he carried her down the hall to his bedroom, thinking about other things now.

  
  


***

  
  


In the darkness of Dean’s bedroom two glowing pairs of lips met under wings made of stars and night, lighting up the bedroom that neither of them had remembered to replace the lightbulbs in. A soft, harmonic chord was already ringing in the air around them, and this time when Castiel claimed him, it was Dean who found the strength to whisper three words out loud, and for only the second time since what felt like an entire lifetime ago, he felt Castiel's hot tears splash down onto his face. 

Dean answered in the way he knew his Angel needed, lifting his chin to offer his throat to his predator, but this time gathering handfuls of feathers in each fist to squeeze, hard, just as Castiel’s lips kissed his mark, glowing on Dean’s neck, and Castiel  _ screamed _ , his back arching under the lightning storm of his wings, his human firmly pinned underneath him but for one, shimmering, moment Castiel the one utterly lost to pleasure, and then he gripped Dean's wrists, pinned them over his smugly grinning face with one hand, and reached between their bodies, his fingers already dripping with slippery molecules, to lay down the law for his eager captive's insolence, his punishment just, and prolonged, and somehow  _ extremely _ unlikely to discourage repeat offenses.

  
  
  
  



End file.
